


Farther On

by sea_pig



Series: Farther On 'Verse [1]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: But here it is, Canon Compliant portrayals of mental illness, Canon-Typical Violence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Episode: s02e14 The Big Game, Episode: s02e15 Revelations, Hurt Spencer Reid, I know the last thing A03 needs is another Spencer Reid whump fic, I understand the optics please don't send me mean messages, Inaccurate Portrayals of Scopolamine, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Tattooing, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, There is NO sex here!, Unhealthy Relationships, by which I mean inaccurate portrayals, technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:20:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 56,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24451966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sea_pig/pseuds/sea_pig
Summary: "They searched the woods nearby, there's no sign of Reid or Hankel.""He's not coming back, Hotch. The computers, the tech.. it's all gone."--Tobias Hankel is in the wind, and he's taken Reid with him. The BAU must race to save him before it's too late.. but will there even be anything left of Reid to save?
Relationships: Tobias Hankel & Spencer Reid, Tobias Hankel/Spencer Reid
Series: Farther On 'Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1871314
Comments: 53
Kudos: 239





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The entire fic has already been written so there's no need to worry sbout this being left WIP. Chapters will be posted once a week, maybe sooner. I really liked writing this so I hope y'all like reading it!! This is my first ever finished chapter fic, fun fact!

**March 9th- 10:02 PM**

There had to have been something they’d missed. Some sort of bolt hole, or some distant relative that Garcia had yet to locate- but he’d already sent her home for the night, and Hotch definitely wasn’t going to try to look any of that up himself. He continued to flip through the file, looking over occasionally at the case board against the wall, as if something else had magically appeared in the time he’d been looking away. His case board was a duplicate of the one in the conference room, just a lot smaller. Right now it was behind his desk, resting underneath the window.

There was a knock on the open door and Hotch lifted his head, shoulders slumping the barest amount when he saw Strauss standing there. “You’re here late.” It was a conversation they’d had many times, and instead of replying she very obviously turned her gaze towards his couch, where there was a blanket and pillow neatly folded on the seat. Then she walked further into the room, to the desk. 

“Aaron..” She began, and he straightened, right hand automatically adjusting his tie while the left remained still on the desk. “It’s been two weeks. Do you have anything new to tell me?” Despite her usually hostile nature, Section Chief Strauss actually sounded genuine for once, but that was overshadowed by the discouraged lilt to her voice. She already knew the answer, or had decided what the truth was and would not listen to any arguments otherwise.

It felt like his heart was dropping into his stomach. A familiar feeling, these past weeks, but Hotch did not let it show on his face. “We.. did have some setbacks, but there are more resources and leads that we haven’t yet investigated.” It wasn’t technically a lie, but it also wasn't true and they both knew it. He blamed that on the lack of sleep; Usually, Hotch had no issue when it came to keeping Erin Strauss away from his team. But it had been almost a month since he’d had a proper rest, or even been home for any significant length of time. 

She shook her head, setting a manila folder on his desk. “You had two weeks to locate any new leads. This is out of my hands now, Aaron. The Director thinks that you’re all too close to the case, and obviously I agree with him. Honestly, I’m surprised any of you are even allowed in the field.”

“We aren’t the ones who experienced trauma.” Hotch bit out.

Strauss barely restrained an eye roll. “You watched your team member almost-” She cut herself off. “I’m only here to drop off your new case.”

“And the old one? Are we supposed to just forget about it? About him?" It's years of practice that keeps Hotchner’s voice just the right amount of even, respectful while still pushing the envelope.

“Of course not. This is an important case. But you’re a high-profile team, and there are other people that need help. Another CID team is going to take the case, and you’ll be informed if there are any updates.” They stared at each other for a moment. “I’m going to need your files, of course.” She said finally. “And all of these.” Without looking, she gestured to the corkboard. “By Monday morning, please. If not sooner.” And then she left, not in any hurry to stay.

There’s a brief moment, after the door closes behind her, where he’s angry. His fist curls and he closes his eyes and there’s a loud BANG as his fist hits the solid wood, loud enough that if there were anyone left in the BAU they’d come running. But the door stays closed. And just like that it's over. He opens his eyes once more, finishes his coffee, and closes the file in front of him. Throws it back in the box. Sets all the pictures and additional notes on top of it. 

He briefly considered letting his anger out on the pages, but tossed that idea aside almost immediately. They couldn’t risk losing anything that they had compiled, and letting his emotions get the best of him would do no good. 

After a time, the process of tearing down the case board became almost meditative- as it usually was. Filing evidence, filling out paperwork… it had always helped him compartmentalize. Like he was telling the work part of his brain to shut down, and asking the father/husband part of his brain to wake up.

The last thing he did, before locking his office and the conference room, was to shoot out a mass text to his team. 

> HOTCHNER: We have been assigned a new case. I’ll see you all tomorrow.

There was one reply by the time Hotch got into his car. It was not ecstatic.

> MORGAN: Unbelievable.

Aaron couldn’t help but agree. 

* * *

**February 7th- 11:25 PM**

Morgan put his gun back in his holster as he stormed out of the cabin, muscles tense with barely contained rage. "Hotch, he's not here. There was a fire but it's out now, there's no telling how long they've been gone."

Hotch nodded, putting his own gun away as well. "They searched the woods nearby, there's no sign of Reid or Hankel." Hotch couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing. Finding nothing was better than finding another body, but finding their friend was better. He pocketed the phone and looked up at Morgan again. "We'll head back to the command center, Gideon has already volunteered to stay behind in case he comes back."

Morgan shook his head again and stepped closer. "He's not coming back, Hotch. The computers, the tech.. it's all gone."

"If he's gone, then Reid is somewhere nearby. Hankel has no reason to keep Reid any longer than he already has, it doesn't fit the profile." Hotch spoke quickly, needing to get his point across without saying what he meant. If Hankel was in the wind, then their friend was likely dead.

"Maybe he thinks keeping Reid will give him some sort of leverage?" Morgan crossed his arms, and Hotch imagined he was regretting not bringing a jacket.

Gideon still managed to sound calm and collected, despite their situation. "I doubt it. This guy was already on the cliff, he won't be thinking straight anymore." He drew even with them and both Morgan and Hotch shifted to face him.

"So you're saying he's dead?" Hotch regretted it as soon as the words were out of his mouth- they were far too emotional. He could feel it all bubbling too close to the surface. His frustration, exhaustion. The fear for his friend and the constant guilt that this was all his fault. He was the Unit Chief, he should have prevented this.

"No." Gideon's voice drags Hotch once more out of his thoughts. "There's no body, and he wouldn't take Reid only to kill him somewhere else. I'm saying that he has Reid. We just don't know what for."

Morgan thought back to the videos of Reid in that cabin, and tried his best not to think of what might be happening to his friend while they stood around talking. "We've got an APB out on the car, he's not going to make it out of the city."

But when it rains it pours, so it was at that moment that a uniform ran up to them with the update.

"A guy called the station, said a man matching Hankel's description stole his van."

"Dammit." Now Gideon sounded displeased. "And Hankel's truck?" 

"Left it where he got the van. No sign of your agent."

* * *

**February 8th- 9:23 AM**

The van jolted as it hit a pothole, and Reid’s head smacked roughly against the window, bringing him back around to full consciousness. He touched his temple gently, confused for a moment before he looked over and saw the driver. He hesitated, debating whether or not it was safe to speak. But then the driver glanced over at him and smiled, and despite himself, Reid relaxed. Tobias hadn't _technically_ hurt him yet, so Reid was safe for now. Relatively.

Reid took a deep breath, glancing around to evaluate the situation. He was uncuffed, for some reason. That was a good sign. The sun was up, which wasn’t. The last thing he remembered, it had been night. He also didn’t recognize the highway they were on- there were no signs or identifying markers as far as he could see.

As soon as he saw one though, he’d probably know where they were- considering he’d memorized most -if not all- of the maps of major highways in the United States. Based on the trees and brush outside his window, they were still on the East coast. Combining that with the assumption hope that he’d only been asleep for 4-8 hours, and it was likely they were either still in Georgia or one of the surrounding states. Not Florida, the air and humidity would be markedly different.

“I’m glad you’re awake.” Tobias said softly, glancing over every few seconds. “I was starting to get lonely.” It was likely that his kidnapper meant that to be funny or reassuring, but it just made Reid feel cold. _A vasovagal reaction, possible symptom of shock_ his mind supplied.

He was still looking over, waiting for a reply, so Reid forced himself to smile. “You.. took the handcuffs off,” He said slowly, testing the waters. “Thank you.” He also forced himself not to look at the gun resting in Tobias’s lap.

Another smile. Reid had never seen an unsub smile so much; not like this at least. Most of the time they had these big, toothy grins. And a look in their eyes that said ‘I am a narcissist who thinks I can outsmart any federal agent.’ Hankel’s smile was different. It was small, almost hidden. And there was this light in his eyes, like… Oh shit. Reid tore his eyes away and turned back to the window.

“It's not like you need them anymore,” Tobias was saying. “Now that you’ve been reborn, Raphael says that you’re free of sin.” He turned back to the road, and his smile disappeared. “Until you sin again, at least.” 

“I-I won’t.” Reid said quickly, pieces of the puzzle fitting together in his mind. At the cabin… he had died. He remembered that now. There had been a bright light, and someone standing over him. He remembered a voice… but he couldn’t make out what it was saying. And then he’d woken up to Raphael standing over him. That was the last thing he remembered, before waking up here. He definitely had a concussion, but hopefully the symptoms were mild. It was still too early to tell what they were, except for the overwhelming migraine and nausea. “It's like I said, I’m on your side.”

Tobias grinned, overjoyed to hear this, and Reid almost felt bad about lying to him. Given Tobias' abuse, drug addiction, and mental health.. his emotional age was likely a lot lower than his physical. In a normal circumstance that would make him easier to manipulate. “Where are we going?” He asked, in an attempt to change the topic. Tobias turned back to the road once more.

“I don’t really know.” He admitted. “North, maybe west once we get far enough. And then after that, find a place to settle down, and…” He went quiet and shrugged, obviously still uncomfortable by the things he had done, and would likely continue to do. Unless the team found them. A lot of Reid's thoughts were ending that way, he noticed. 'Unless the team found them.'

“Tobias, we don’t have to do this.” Reid started slow. Convincing Tobias to trust him and maybe even turn himself in was Reid’s best chance right now, considering that neither one of his other personalities would hardly let Reid talk before, much less listen. Although that may have changed, given that Tobias thought he had no sin. If they all thought he was on their side, it might make them trust him more. “I know that you don’t want to hurt people. And if we were to find my friends…”

Tobias shook his head, very roughly. “They aren’t your friends anymore. They can’t be. 'But now I am writing to you that you must not associate with anyone who claims to be a brother or sister but is sexually immoral or greedy, an idolater or slanderer, a drunkard or swindler. Do not even eat with such people.'" He recited. 

“1 Corinthians.” Reid finished for him. They finally passed a sign, and Reid turned his head to read it. 

BESSEMER CITY

1 MILE

They each lapsed into silence, Reid taking note of how many times Tobias turned to look at him. 22 times since Reid had woken up. They’d been driving for almost an hour, and he’d never once reached for the gun. Did he trust Reid, or did he think the sight of it was threat enough?

Tobias got off at the exit and parked outside a motel. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel and stared at the dimly lit front office for a few moments before stuffing the gun into his pocket and opening the door. “Come on.” He said quickly to Reid as he stepped out and dropped down onto the pavement

He was definitely more tense than he had been in the car, Reid noted. But he was still Tobias. Hopefully he would stay that way. 

There was a moment, when Tobias started toward the office and Reid was watching him, that he debated running. Taking off down the road, back to the highway and flagging down a car. But even if he did get away, Tobias would just run again. By the time his team got here Tobias would be long gone, and they’d have no way of finding him. 'North, and then West' wasn't much of a clue. At least this way he could try to stop Tobias, when he decided to kill again. And the team would find them soon, anyways. 

His mom had always told him that if he got lost and he didn’t know how to get home, then he just had to stay put. Stay in one spot and eventually someone would find him. Reid had never needed that advice before now. And staying with Tobias Hankel wasn’t technically standing in one spot, but it was close enough. 

Tobias turned back to look at him, and this time Reid didn’t hesitate to start forward, wincing only a little as he put weight on his bad leg. 

* * *

**February 14th- 10:13 AM**

  
  


They’d been searching for a week with no leads. Hankel’s mother had been killed by a drunk driver almost a year ago. JJ and Prentiss had read and reread every single journal, and Gideon had combed every inch of the house. After that first day they’d sent memos out to every police station in Georgia, and quite a few in other states. 

“How does a man kidnap an FBI agent and just disappear?” Morgan exclaimed for what felt like the fiftieth time. Reid would’ve been able to tell him exactly how many times he’d complained, and Morgan does _not_ want to be thinking about that right now. It would only make him angrier. 

Prentiss just shook her head. JJ was on the phone with a sheriff two towns south who thought they’d gotten a sighting, and Hotch and Gideon were chasing another possible: Garcia had gotten a list of every abandoned, remote building in the county, and they were all taking turns checking each one. There were a lot, but it was all they could do until they found something else. 

“He couldn’t go far, right?” She started the conversation again. Back at the beginning, just like their case. “I mean, Hankel’s psychosis makes him way too disorganized to get any considerable distance before being caught, right?”

“Normally, yeah. But the multiple personalities make him able to jump between organized and disorganized. He’s talked to multiple cops before, just to show us that he can. There’s a chance that we won’t catch this guy until…” Morgan trailed off, pausing in his pacing to turn to Prentiss.

“Until he kills again.” Prentiss finished for him. “But why hasn’t he killed Reid yet? He hasn’t kidnapped anyone before.”

“Except for Helen Douglas,” Morgan reminded her. “But he didn’t keep her this long.” Mrs. Douglas had been held for barely 12 hours before her death, this was nearly a week longer than that.

"Is it possible he's evolving? He kidnaps Helen Douglas, then decides he likes it more than breaking into people's houses?"

"No." Prentiss was still new at this, and Morgan considered himself to be a good teacher. Plus, thinking about the case like he was using it to teach her something new? Definitely helping him keep calm. "Even if he was young enough to still be evolving, mission-based killers don't typically change their M.O. Especially someone this deluded."

“There must be some other reason he’s keeping Reid, then.” Prentiss wasn't searching for her own answers anymore, just talking aloud in an attempt to guide Morgan to an answer. 

Morgan thought back to the last time they’d seen Reid, when Hankel had the gun to his head. “Garcia!” He yelled over his shoulder as he walked into the computer room. “Go back to the last video.” He didn’t need to specify more than that, and with only a few taps Garcia had it pulled up. Morgan leaned over and moved the mouse on his own, fast-forwarding to when Hankel first pulled the gun on Reid.

_“Choose, and prove you’ll do_ _God’s will.”_ Raphael said over the video, and Garcia turned her head away, unable to look at it again. But Morgan paused right after that, and played it again. 

“Emily, call Hotch. He needs to know about this. The son of a bitch is trying to make Reid work with him.” 

“He-He can’t do that. Reid wouldn’t do that!” Garcia argued, more to try to keep herself from picturing it than anything else.

Morgan went to walk out, then stopped. He turned and walked back to the desk, kneeling down to look into Garcia’s eyes and hold her hand. “We’ll find Reid before Hankel gets the chance to do anything. I promise. I need you to remember that, okay?”

“I know, I know. It's just- looking at him sitting there, he had blood on his-” Her hand flew up to brush along her hairline, and there were tears springing to her eyes. “And his-” She took a deep breath. “They- He tried to shoot him and Reid didn’t even flinch. It was like he’d just.. Just accepted it or something.” 

“Hey. He’s gonna be fine. Alright? We’re gonna get him back and he’ll be good as new before you know it, okay?” He glanced towards the door, where Prentiss was still on the phone. “Why don’t you call it quits for the night, huh? I'll drive you back, it’s getting pretty late.” Garcia hesitated for a moment before nodding, murmuring an agreement and grabbing her coat.

* * *

**February 8th- 9:50 AM**

Any small motel off the side of the beaten path of a highway is bound to be cramped and dirty. And when you’re on the run from the FBI, that’s usually a plus. If someone isn’t inclined to follow health codes, they’re more likely to look the other way for more serious offenses.

All that being said, this room was extremely dirty. There was one bed, with grimy grey sheets. The kitchenette cabinets had no doors, and the fridge was at least 10 years old. So was the carpet, actually- it looked like it had once been thicker, but the fibers were now matted and torn away. 

Tobias didn’t seem to mind the mess and stains, just turned on the dim bulb above the sink and set a small duffel bag on the wobbly table. “This’ll do for now.” He commented, grabbing the bedpost and shaking it to test the sturdiness of the frame. “I’ll go get some food, all right?” Reid turned fully towards Tobias, surprised.

“By yourself?” Did he really trust Reid that much? Spencer stepped further into the room, letting the door close. Tobias was fiddling with something in his bag, and he turned halfway towards Reid, not looking at him. Reid followed his gaze down to his hands and froze.

Tobias began to prep the syringe as Reid backed up. “Don’t worry, I won’t be gone long.” He promised, seeming not to notice Reid’s panic.

“No, Tobias.. I don’t need that I’m fine. I’m telling you I’m fine. I'm not going to leave, okay?” Reid brought his hands up in defense, feeling his pulse quicken at the sight of the syringe. Hopefully it was a clean one.. Except that it didn’t matter, Reid reminded himself. It didn’t matter if it was clean or the same one because he wasn’t letting Tobias inject him with that shit again, he couldn’t afford to lose control of himself, not when he didn’t know where he was or if his team was even on their way… and the thought of his friends coming into this motel room and finding him high out of his mind caused a thread of anxiety to wrap around his lungs.

Tobias moved quickly, grabbing Reid’s wrist and knocking him to the ground in one sudden movement. Then he was straddling Reid, pinning him to the ground and pulling his belt off to wrap around Reid’s arm once more. 

Reid was no match for him, not as hurt and weak as he was right now. The fall had knocked the wind out of his chest, and it was all he could do to try to maintain his breathing and close his eyes, so he didn’t have to watch as the needle slipped into his skin and struck a vein. 

Soon after that, he didn’t have to worry about anything anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

**TIMESTAMP: UNKNOWN**

Bits and pieces of reality fluttered in. The scrape of carpet against his cheek, until a hand grabbed his collar and hauled him up into a sitting position. “What did you do?” A man’s voice growled, and Reid opened his mouth to explain that this wasn’t what it looked like, but his own voice had disappeared.

There was a dark shape in front of him, but Reid couldn’t make out who it was. The hand came up again and grabbed his wrist, tugging it away from the safety of Reid's body. He tried to pull away but it was like his limbs had stopped responding; they felt like heavy clay.

“I did what he told me to!” Said another voice, different from the first but familiar. Reid tried to turn towards it, but his head just rolled onto his shoulder. The voice said something else but the words seemed jumbled and slurred. Then the first voice spoke again. 

“Come on now, boy. Let him do what he’s got to do.” The two voices seemed to fade, like they were leaving, and Reid wanted to call out to them, beg them not to go. By the time he figured out how to open his mouth again there was a sharp smack against his cheek, and he dragged his eyelids up once more, not even realizing that they had closed. There was a dark shape in front of him again, like a person. And something behind the shape, something important. This something didn’t stand out against his vision, like the shoulders and head and legs of the person. It was like a sheet moving in the wind, bending and twisting, fading from view before coming back again. 

“Spencer Reid.” The figure spoke, and Reid could tell now that it was a man. “Do you know why you are here?” He spoke slowly, and seriously, and Reid made sure to focus on every word that he was saying, because he knew it was important. “You may speak.” 

With those words, it was like something unlocked in his head. Right, speaking. That was a thing that he was usually capable of doing. What was the question?

He must’ve asked that aloud because there was a distinct huff from the direction of the figure. “Do you know why you are here?”

“No.” Reid answered truthfully, shaking his head to the best of his ability. “Where am I?”

His question was ignored. “You are here because one of us received a message from God. You performed well in the trials set before you, and have proven yourself worthy of being reborn, as a sword in the hand of God.”

“Oh.” Is all Reid could bring himself to say, because his tongue still felt numb but he could tell that the man was waiting for a response. “What do I have to do?” His head lolled again, and his eyes caught the thing over the man’s shoulder. It was beautiful, and Reid imagined what it would feel like if he were able to touch it.

“You will lead us to the unfaithful, to the thieves and adulterers, liars and begetters. And no longer will we be forced to use the tools of sinners.” Every sentence was a sermon, and Reid was having trouble following along. 

The man came closer, kneeling in front of Reid, and his face swam slowly into focus. “Do you remember who I am?” He asked, stoic tone turning soft for a moment.

“I don’t.” Reid shook his head, and this time it seemed to move too fast and left him dizzy. 

“I am Raphael. And I am your master.” 

That wasn’t right. That wasn’t right at all but it sounded right and Reid couldn’t think of a reason why it wouldn’t be right, so he just nodded. He was still dizzy, and his body still felt like heavy clay, and he was so  _ tired _ . It was so much easier to just agree. His eyes caught the twisting shapes over Raphael’s shoulder, and after a moment, it clicked. Those were wings. This was an angel. 

“Sleep now.” The angel commanded, and Reid found his eyes closing without his telling them to, and was once again unconscious. 

* * *

**February 9th- 6:55 PM**

There was a repetitive clicking sound somewhere over his head. A steady sound, occurring once every 6.5 seconds. Reid lay there long enough to identify the pattern and let the sleep drain from his limbs. By the time his eyes opened, he knew exactly what would be in front of them. A broken ceiling fan, with a loose screw in one of the blades that kept  _ thwack _ ing against some invisible metal seam every time it traveled the circumference of the fan's base.

It made him think of Morgan. They’d spent three days sharing a hotel room in Tacoma, Washington, four months and seven days before the last time they'd seen each other. The first night, Morgan had asked the front desk to do something about the noise. When they’d returned to the room that night, nothing had changed. By the six hour mark, Morgan had decided to take the fan apart and fix it himself. Which had, of course, reminded Reid of all the different things he knew about water torture. Instead of listening politely or worse, asking him to shut up, Morgan used the opportunity to ‘teach him something useful’ and by the time they fell asleep at 3:23 AM, Reid knew all the different ways to fix a ceiling fan. Reid wondered if Morgan thought about that night as much as he did. 

The door slammed shut and Reid jerked, too lost in his own thoughts to notice someone had come in. He was on the floor, propped up against the bed frame, and his hands were handcuffed to the post. Tobias moved into his field of vision, and Reid was about to greet him when he noticed the change in his gait, and the way his usually wide eyes were slanted into a glare. 

“What are you looking at, boy?” Charles snapped, and Reid obediently dropped his gaze. His leg still throbbed from the last time he’d made Charles Hankel mad, and he did not want a repeat of that. Ever. 

“I was just- just wondering where Tobias was.” Reid’s mouth tasted like sand, and he dragged his tongue against his teeth, trying to ease the sensation. “He said that he was coming back.”

“You’ll see him.” Charles moved out of sight again, and Reid lifted his head to try to keep him in his eyeline. No such luck, however- he had moved to the table on the other side of the bed. “If you behave, that is.” Reid could hear him digging around in the duffel bag, and the sound of plastic rubbing against itself. “That boy’s taken a liking to you. But a righteous man can’t keep company with sinners.”

“I’m not a sinner.” Reid said quickly, flashing back to what Tobias had said in the car. “I was reborn.”

“Maybe.” There was the metallic click of a lighter, the 'thunk' of something heavy being set on the table. Reid tried to turn to look again, desperate to know what was happening. “But you can’t follow the path of the Lord until you have been sealed against sin. And I will not let my mission or my son be tainted.” There was the distinct smell of smoke, and Reid realized exactly what was about to happen. Charles rounded the corner with a small tool in his hand- it looked a little like a cauterizing tool.. If a cauterizing tool was homemade and had a shaped metal tip on the end. 

Despite his previous attempts to seem calm Reid began to struggle, trying to pull his hands out of the handcuffs to cover his face. He’d seen the scar, high on Tobias’ forehead, and the idea of going through that same thing scared Reid right the hell out of his own mind, to the point that he was barely aware of the sound of his own voice begging. 

Charles’ fist came out of nowhere, and for a few seconds Reid was too stunned to even blink. “Don’t fight me, boy.” He spat. “If you truly want to do the work of the Lord, you would welcome this.” 

“I-I do.” Reid managed to say through a mouthful of blood. “I promise.” Charles stuffed a rag into Reid’s mouth, keeping him from speaking again. Reid was grateful for it- he knew that this was going to be bad, and that if he didn’t scream himself hoarse he’d likely bite off his own tongue. Charles didn’t care about his tongue though, and was probably more concerned about attracting attention. 

“Then stop struggling.” He commanded, and lifted the cauterizer. Reid tensed and forced himself not to move. He couldn’t close his eyes though, and Reid could feel his eyebrows twist in confusion when the tool moved, not towards his forehead but up above it, but it only lasted for a moment before he remembered the Bible verse that must have given Charles the idea for the brand. **  
**

**_‘It shall be a sign for you on your hand and a reminder on your forehead that the Law of the LORD is to be on your lips. For with a mighty hand the LORD brought you out of Egypt. Exodus 13:9’_ ** **  
**

“Psalm 23, verse 3.” Charles said, seemingly out of nowhere. “Do you know it?” The cloth was still in his mouth, so Reid nodded. “Let that be your comfort." He turned his attention upward once more. 

Reid swallowed, or tried to, and nodded again.  _ ' _ _ He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.'  _ That was the third verse, but Reid kept going, letting the words come right after the other, desperate for the distraction.  _ 'Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me-' _ The cauterizing tool suddenly pressed into his hand, and Reid’s teeth dug into the cloth to stop a scream from escaping. 

Charles pressed the tool in harder, and the air was forced out of Reid’s lungs once more. 

' _ For thou art with me, thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.'  _ Reid would’ve kept going, but Charles chose that moment to finally pull away, and the fresh wave of agony forced his brain to jerk to a stop.

Reid sagged against the bed, wincing as the handcuffs pulled against his wrists. Every tiny movement seemed to pull on the skin on his hand, making the wound throb with new pain each time. “You did good.” Charles had moved around the bed, to the other side of the room. Reid could hear the sound of the plastic once more. “Better than that brat ever handled it. Threw up all over the damn barn. Maybe Raphael was right.” 

Charles came back around again, holding a roll of bandages and a small bag. He dropped them both on the carpet next to Reid’s knee. There was a click as the handcuffs released, and Reid immediately let his hands fall into his lap, holding back tears but unable to stop himself from gasping as the air pressed against his burn. His shoulders ached like they’d been hanging there for hours- which they might've been, for all Reid knew.

“Clean yourself up and eat.” Charles walked into the bathroom and shut the door. A few seconds later, Reid heard the shower turn on. It was then that he moved, reaching for the bag and finding a water bottle and what looked to be unleavened bread. The bread he put back, ignoring his growling stomach to focus on cleaning and dressing his wound. 

Reid had seen burns before. He’d even seen brands before, on victims. But to see one on his own hand made him almost violently ill, and it took a few seconds before he felt like he wasn’t going to pass out. The skin was actually indented, and the slightest movement of his hand caused Reid to gasp and tense. He needed to bandage this up as soon as possible, or it would definitely become infected. His entire hand was completely numb as well, which would make treatment that much more difficult. The burn didn’t look deep enough to cause long term issues, but without proper medical attention it was impossible to know for sure. 

He used a little bit of his shirt as a rag and poured water on it, dabbing gently at the edges of the seared flesh. Just the barest of touches brought tears to his eyes, and eventually he had to give up cleaning the wound and instead just bandaged it. 

Once his hand was wrapped as securely as he could make it, Reid turned back to the bread. It seemed that Charles was attempting to recreate Exodus, at least the section about fleeing Egypt. The brand and the unleavened bread, just like orders given to the Isrealites once they were out of Egypt. Although Charles seemed to be mixing up verses- Exodus explicitly said that the brand was to be applied after the seven days of eating unleavened bread. 

That made Reid wonder.. The scripture was extremely important to Tobias’s psychopathology. Was it possible that straying from the text itself was a sign that he was devolving? Or maybe it was just as likely that Tobias didn’t actually know the scripture that well, so his alternate personalities were forced to fill in the blanks with whatever they could from Tobias’s memories. There was also the third alternative, that the Charles personality simply didn’t care about the Bible like he claimed, and instead only used it to serve his own purposes. 

That was unlikely, Reid decided as he finished the dry bread. You don’t burn a cross into your son’s forehead unless you’re serious about your religion.

The shower was still going, and Reid listened for any signs of Charles' return before moving, forcing himself into a kneeling, then standing position. It was hard, with only one hand and probably one and half legs, given the burning pain spreading through his ankle and foot. But this was as good a chance as he was going to get, likely for a while. The clerk would have a phone, all he had to do was get to the office. 

Hankel was in the shower, which meant that all his stuff was out here in the room. Reid zeroed in on the duffel bag, and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw both the gun and the knife resting inside. His heart skipped a beat, and anxiety flooded him for a moment before he reached down and picked them both up, tucking the knife into his pocket. The gun was a comforting weight, familiar. It was his gun after all, taken from him in the cornfield almost a week ago. The silver revolver was also there, but Reid had no way to carry it so he took the bullets instead.

The door to the bathroom opened suddenly and Reid turned, raising the gun on instinct. He was surprised to find his hand shaking, but chalked it up to his sore muscles and lack of actual food. His injured hand hung down at his side, unresponsive and numb. 

It was Raphael this time- Reid could tell by the sharp, almost military stance, and the way he looked at Reid. Completely unafraid.

It was a silent stare down for five whole seconds before Raphael spoke. “You will not hurt me. You can not hurt a weapon of God.”

“You’re not an angel.” This was dangerous but it didn’t matter. Reid had the gun and the knife and he wasn’t going to play this game anymore, he wouldn’t let them hurt him anymore. “You’re just a man. Tobias, I can get you help, okay? I just need you to come back and we can get help. My friends will understand that you’re sick, and everything will be alright.” That was a lie. If Tobias didn’t choose suicide by cop, he would be prosecuted heavily. He’d likely spend the rest of his life in a criminal asylum, and if he ever got better then he’d be sent to jail.

Raphael didn’t react to Reid’s babbling, only tilting his head and taking a step closer. “All this just to see the boy? I thought you were above such earthly desires.” He took another step, and this time Reid backed up. 

“Don’t move! Do not move or I will shoot, and you’ll never complete your mission.” Raphael shook his head, but didn’t advance again.

“Spencer Reid. You can not shoot me. You know this.” There was a heavy buzzing sound coming from somewhere, and Reid thought about the ceiling fan again. 

“Don’t say my name. You don’t know anything about me.” It was getting hard to breathe, the air was starting to burn so hot that it wasn’t filling his lungs properly. 

Raphael was right in front of him, all of a sudden. His chest was almost touching the barrel, and Reid flinched backwards on instinct. “I know that your finger is no longer on the trigger. Give me the gun.” 

Something was wrong. He could feel it, now that he knew. He shouldn’t have hesitated, there was no reason to. And his pulse had skyrocketed throughout their exchange, until his heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest. Add that to the sweat currently building between his shoulder blades, and the buzzing in his ears.. 

“You drugged me.” Raphael pulled the gun from Reid’s hand and tucked it into his belt. “What did you- what was-” Now that he knew about it, it seemed like the effects were coming on faster. His injured hand had been numb, but it felt like the rest of his body was falling asleep as well. 

Fingers looped around the wrist of his injured hand, and tightened when Reid moved to pull away. “Give me the knife, Spencer.” 

His fingers twitched. Reid could feel the way his tendons flexed against Tobias' hand. He was close, too close- their shoulders were mere centimeters from touching. "I don’t have the knife.” He had to force the words out of his mouth, mostly because he couldn’t feel his lips. _ Who was talking to him? _ He hated how sluggish his brain felt, and Reid lifted his eyes from the carpet.

Harsh brown eyes stared back at him, familiar in all the wrong ways. This was Tobias Hankel, except that it wasn’t, because Tobias’s eyes were soft and anxious, but these were cold. Reid wanted to look away but held his gaze, trying to get his brain to start working again.

“You have the knife. Give it to me.” Reid felt his hand move again, but forced it to squeeze into a fist. He couldn’t let this man have the knife, even if he wasn’t entirely sure where he’d gotten the knife in the first place. 

“Take it yourself.” The room was starting to spin, and it felt like the only way not to get swept up with it was to focus on the man in front of him. Raphael. This was Raphael. Reid dragged his gaze over the other’s shoulder, looking for the wings he’d seen before, but they were either gone or out of reach. 

“No.” Raphael smirked at him, and there was finally a glimpse of emotion on his face. “You will give it to me. You will do what I tell you to, and if you don’t then you will  _ hurt _ . Do you understand? Answer me.”

“I-I understand.” Raphael hadn’t tightened his grip on Reid’s wrist, and he hadn’t moved at all, but a dull pain spread behind his eyes the longer Raphael looked at him. Finally he had to turn his head, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to make it go away.

“Give. Me. The knife.” Raphael spoke slowly, and just the sound of his voice made the pain abate, just a little. Reid wasn’t supposed to give him the knife, he knew that. But he couldn’t remember why, and the headache was blinding- literally, given that his eyes were screwed shut. He fumbled with his free hand, unable to move his fingers with their usual dexterity, and pulled the knife out of his pocket, shoving it handle first towards Raphael. 

The angel took it, and as soon as it was out of Reid’s hand the pain was gone. He gasped in relief, sagging against Raphael involuntarily. Raphael released Reid’s wrist and instead rested his hand on Reid’s side. 

He didn’t have much time to consider the touch before he was shoved onto the bed, and the sudden movement brought vicious nausea. He moved to sit up but froze when Raphael spoke again. 

“You will not move.” He commanded, and Reid just.. Stopped. Fell limp against the mattress. He tried to struggle, but his body was no longer responding to his commands. 

“What did you do to me?” Reid had an analytical mind, and even at his worst he was asking questions, trying to make some sense of the world around himself. “This isn’t dilaudid..”

“You have been reborn free from sin, and have been sealed against Satan. But your mind is weak, and the body is unwilling. This is the last step, to remake you completely in His image.” Raphael had moved slowly around the bed, and as he stopped on Reid’s right he lifted the blade. “You will not scream.” Was his last command. The blade was lowered, with almost ceremonial slowness, to Reid’s side. 

He slammed his eyes shut, unwilling to watch as the blade found a home between his eighth and ninth rib, where it dug and drew a sharp line, almost tracing the path between the bones. 

His mouth wouldn’t open but Reid whimpered, breath catching as blood spilled out onto his side. Raphael wasn’t done yet, though, and the knife made similar slices between each of his ribs, cutting through tissue and muscle while staying away from all the dangerous, sensitive parts in the middle. This was so, so much worse than the brand, and Reid opened his mouth to scream only to have his breath stolen from him, with no external force as the cause. 

He couldn’t scream because Raphael told him not to. He couldn’t move because Raphael said so. Reid didn’t know what was happening but it was dangerous. Dangerous enough to momentarily distract him from the pain as Raphael finished the first set of ribs and moved around to the left side of the bed. 

_ If Raphael could keep Reid from struggling, what else could he make him do? _

* * *

**March 16- 11:29 PM**

JJ was just settling down with a glass of wine when someone knocked on her door. Then the bell rang. She frowned, glancing at her watch before looking at the door once more. Then, quietly as she could, JJ stood and moved towards the door, grabbing her gun off the coffee table as she went. She stood to the right of the door before flicking the porch light and hallway light on. “Who’s there?”

“It’s me! Uh.. Penelope Garcia, reporting for friend duty!” JJ instantly relaxed, and she made sure to tuck the gun into the drawer underneath the hallway table. She didn’t want to scare the bejeezus out of her friend, and if Penelope saw her with her gun then she’d definitely tell Hotch or the others. And JJ didn’t want them to worry about her. 

So she opened the door with a smile on her face. “Garcia? What are you doing here? It’s almost midnight.”

“Trust me, I know. And normally I wouldn’t disturb you but I finally finished this thing I was working on at the office and-” Garcia took a deep breath as she walked through the door, turning around and lifting up the bag she was carrying. It was large, and looked a little heavy. “Anyways. You’ve just seemed.. Really down, lately. And I know, I know that you have a reason, and we all have a reason, and every day is like a living nightmare, but you seemed really down today. More so than usual. And it's not a good idea to be alone right now, so I wanted to come over and see if we could talk, maybe have a movie night?”

“I’m not sure if that’s a good-” JJ tried to refuse, but Garcia was already moving into the kitchen. 

“Penelope!” JJ couldn’t help but snap as she rounded the corner into the kitchen, only to sigh as she saw that Garcia was already emptying her bag. “Jesus, did you bring your whole kitchen?”

“Just popcorn, in case you didn’t have any bags. And the stuff to make quesadillas. And some wine, and margarita mix.” She finally turned around, and crushed her hands together in that classic Penelope move that screamed ‘I don’t want you to see my hands shaking’. It made JJ’s heart break, just a little, and she crossed the room to hug her friend.

“Thank you, Garcia.” It was a Friday night, she could stay up.. Later than she already was. “So, quesadillas?”

**  
  
**

An hour and two quesadillas later, the two women were comfortably seated on the couch, halfway through  _ The Sound of Music _ . They’d had a bottle of wine between them, and JJ was feeling relaxed enough to talk. Actually talk, because she knew that was the reason Garcia had come over. That, and lying awake in her apartment all by herself was likely driving her mad. God knew it was enough to make herself crazy. Hence why she was even awake when Garcia came calling. 

“Do you remember that time you, Reid and I...” Garcia began, turning a little towards JJ.

“Garcia, don’t do this.” JJ shook her head and set her glass down, not looking over.

“What? I was just-” 

“You were just talking about him like he’s dead. Like we’re never going to see him again.” JJ snapped, and immediately regretted it. “We’re going to see him again, and we can reminisce then.”

“I know how you guys work.” Garcia wouldn’t shy away, no matter how much JJ yelled. She was probably the most emotionally healthy among them, right now. Either her or Prentiss- JJ still felt jealous of the way she seemed to be handling everything. “You’re all quiet, and a little angry,  _ all the time _ . And it's because you can’t stop thinking about the case, and about what Reid might be going through, but we can’t keep focusing on all the bad stuff. Because soon the bad stuff will be all we remember about him.”

She was probably right. “What do you think Reid is thinking about, right now?” Came out of JJ’s mouth without her meaning it to. She was staring at the tv, but it blurred as tears welled up in her eyes. “Do you think he’s thinking about the time we all went to a football game? Or the beach?” She shook her head, and grabbed her wine glass for another drink. “I know exactly what he’s thinking right now. He’s scared, and he’s in pain, and he’s wondering why in the hell we haven’t found him.” She took a breath to continue, but was struck by one of her throw pillows instead.

“Stop it!” Garcia hissed, too aware of the lateness of the hour to fully scream. “Stop it, right now!” She took a ragged breath before continuing. “I don’t want to hear it. This is exactly what I’m talking about. I don’t know who’s sitting across from me, but it sure as hell isn’t my friend JJ, whom I love very much.” She stood and began collecting their plates and their cups- JJ let the glass be taken from her, surprised to see tears trickling down Garcia’s face.

“Penelope..” Garcia fled once more into the kitchen, and JJ watched her go before standing to follow. Remorse was one of the quickest ways to sober up, she was finding out. 

Garcia was in the too-bright kitchen, rinsing their dishes and loading the dishwasher. JJ stood in the door for a moment before she was propelled forward by the sound of Garcia’s sob. 

“Penelope, I’m sorry. I wasn’t- you’re right.” She laid a hand on Garcia’s shoulder. “I guess we’re all punishing ourselves a little bit.”

“Every morning, I wake up. And I think about how Reid’s gonna love to dissect my dream, or I want to tell him about the Doctor Who episode that I watched the night before. And then I remember that I can’t. And everything just comes crashing down again and I hate it, so much!” Garcia finally turned around to look at JJ. “You guys aren’t the only ones who think about that stuff, you know? You don’t need to be a profiler to imagine... to imagine that.” JJ technically wasn’t a profiler, but both women knew that she had the skills aspect of the job down pat. 

“It was insensitive, I’m sorry.” JJ wrapped her arms around Garcia, both to comfort her friend and to hide her own blossoming tears. 

They stood like that for a few minutes before JJ laughed and pulled away. “I think we’ve had too much to drink.”

“That’s why I brought an extra change of clothes.” Penelope smiled, and it was like a little bit of the pain fell away. Not all of it, not even most of it, but enough that their spines could stand a little straighter, and they could keep moving forward. 

“Thank you for coming over, Garcia, seriously. It’s the most normal I’ve felt since we’ve been back.”

“Don’t feel guilty, okay?” Garcia nudged JJ’s shoulder with her hand as she grabbed her bag from the counter. “About feeling normal, I mean. It's hard, but it's what Reid would want. Does want. He’s going to hate it when he comes back and we’re all mopey.”

* * *

**February 15th- 4:54 PM**

Days passed. Reid thought they passed. The curtains were closed, always, tight enough that no light shone through. 

There was almost a routine to all this. The same things were done, but never in any particular order. And each time before unconsciousness was spent the same way: in blood and pain, and silence. 

If Raphael wanted something, he wasn't telling. He didn't speak at all, actually. At some point after he woke, Reid would be fed. At another, he would be drugged. The method was always different, whether it was hidden in his food or forcefully injected.

The reactions were different each time. If it came from his food it was slower, more methodical. If it was injected then the results were instantaneous and disorienting. Reid had information on dozens of different drugs that were both injectable and oral, but he did not recognize this one. 

He considered not eating, but was too hungry to go through with it. 

The pain always came last, and every time was exactly the same as before. 

**  
  
**

First, the spaces between his ribs. Reid felt light headed by the time it was over, likely from blood loss. The fog cleared rather quickly when Raphael splashed rubbing alcohol on the cuts, and Reid moved automatically against the invisible force that had trapped him.

“Who do you serve?” He asked this time, the first words spoken in too long. The sound was both a blessing and curse after so long in silence.

“I serve you, I serve you- I serve you.” He couldn’t get the words out fast enough, desperate to make himself heard, lest Raphael decide to start over again. 

“Who do you serve?” 

“I serve you. Please, I’ll do anything-”

“Choose one of your team to die.” They’d been through this before, in the cabin. The memory wasn’t there but the words were imprinted on Reid's brain. They hadn't been fast enough to save him. Did they get his message? Did they even try?

“I chose already.” His vision was blurred- Reid thought he was crying, but he couldn’t feel his face to confirm it. 

“No, that was your attempt at a trick. You can not fool God.” There was a flash of refracted light as Raphael brought the knife into Reid’s line of sight, and Reid hated the way all his cuts seemed to light up in pain once more, and he felt the knife digging through his skin all over again, like it was happening for the first time… but the knife wasn’t touching him.

“Choose one to die, and you will be granted a reprieve.” 

“Okay, okay. Just- let me think.” The pain abated ever so slightly, and Reid forced his eyes to shut as he thought through his options. 

It wasn’t like Raphael could hurt his friends, right? Reid knew he was an angel, but even angels couldn’t be in two places at once and his friends were really good at their jobs. If Raphael went after them he’d be dead before he knew what had happened.  _ But they’d let Spencer get taken anyway _ No, that wasn’t true. They were doing their best to find him. 

Except that Reid knew how this worked. How it had always worked, all his life. People pretended to care and then they pulled away, because he was too much, too different, and they couldn’t handle him anymore. Or because they thought it was funny, to see him stumble and fall apart when he realized that he’d been played. He knew, somewhere in the pit of his heart, that the team only cared about what he could give them. He could tell by the way they spoke to him, the way they practically ran away when he came in every morning. The laughter behind his back, the talking about him when they thought he couldn’t hear. 

Maybe they’d decided that he had outlived his usefulness. They had probably already moved on and found someone else to sit at his desk. ' _ Someone who cares more about sports than National Geographic' _ , Morgan had said once. If they had, then what was the point in protecting them? Especially when they could already protect themselves. They had each other, and Reid was alone. They would forgive him for playing along.

Even so, he still couldn’t make himself choose. So he just said the first name that came to his mouth. “Derek Morgan.”

“What is his sin?” Raphael was still calm, and Reid opened his eyes to see that the knife was gone.

“Lust. He hasn’t met a woman that he didn’t try to have sex with.” Raphael didn’t say anything to that, and Reid felt himself panic when the angel started to walk away. “Am I- Did I do okay?” He turned his head to try to follow Raphael, but was still unable to move. He was about to call out once more when Raphael spoke.

“You are released, Spencer.” Feeling flooded into his limbs all at once, and Reid relaxed against the bed. He lifted his head to look at his chest, to survey the damage. It was difficult to see without sitting up, but the blood had mostly slowed by now- the cuts weren’t deep enough to cause any long term damage. A couple of them probably needed stitches though.

He flinched as a hand came to rest on his arm. Reid turned to see Tobias sitting next to him on the bed, a towel in his hand and a panicked look on his face. “Tobias? I thought that you were-”

“You’re bleeding.” He sounded angry, and Reid was shocked into silence. He’d never heard Tobias angry before. “They hurt you.” His tone had shifted again, and it wasn’t anger. It was likely that Tobias couldn’t actually be angry at his other personalities. This was.. Worry, stress? His hands were shaking. Reid felt something bloom in his chest, and he was relieved at the confirmation that Tobias wouldn’t  _ couldn’t? _ hurt him. 

“I’m fine.” Reid proved it by reaching for Tobias’s hand and squeezing gently. He had the weird urge to defend Raphael, but pushed it away. 

“I didn’t want you to get hurt. But they say it's the only way.” Tobias ran his thumb along Reid’s hand before pulling away and taking up the towel again, unfolding it and holding it over Reid’s chest before hesitating again. 

“The bleeding has pretty much stopped.” Reid said, much calmer than he should’ve been. That was probably the leftover effects of the drugs. He was coming back to himself now, he could tell. Things before had been faded and distorted, hard to grasp properly. “I think I’m going to need stitches, though. We’ll have to clean it up, see which ones are still open.” Tobias was still sort of staring, and he had gotten very pale, very quickly. “Tobias.” His eyes jumped from the cuts to Reid’s face, almost automatically. “I need you to go get some water, okay?” Tobias nodded and set the towel down before disappearing into the bathroom. He took his time, and was gone long enough that Reid was worried he had passed out or something. 

Tobias’s reaction to the blood made it even more obvious that Raphael was the killer here. It made him angry, if he was being honest with himself. That someone so seemingly innocent had been used to kill all those people. That an angel would ruin something so-

Reid felt very cold, all of a sudden, as he realized where his thoughts had led. Raphael wasn’t an angel. Angels weren’t real. This was just a case of abuse, so severe that it caused Tobias’s very being to shatter. But for a moment he had genuinely believed...

There wasn’t any more time to think about that, because Tobias was back with a small bowl of water. It spilled a little over the edge as he sat it on the nightstand, but either didn’t notice or didn’t care. 

He began to clean the blood off, using the most gentle of touches. Reid watched him for a few minutes, staring at Tobias’s face as he worked. Eventually the other man noticed, and Reid got to watch him actually blush. It was weird, watching the face that had all of Raphael’s features and yet.. Wasn’t him in the slightest.

“You’re looking at me.” Tobias said quietly, trying to sound nonchalant, but it was obvious to Reid that he was faking.

_ You’re beautiful. _ Reid wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure where the thought came from and it sure as hell wouldn’t be appreciated- by either of them. So he chose something else. “Why are they doing this to me?” Raphael and Charles had given him vague, sermony answers, but Tobias didn’t do fancy. He’d tell him the truth, as direct as he could make it.

“We’re making you a soldier. Like you’re supposed to be.” He paused, frowning down at Reid’s stomach before continuing. “The moment I saw you, on the computer? I knew you were supposed to be here. I just felt this heaviness in my chest and my throat, and it was like I was going to fall over. That was God, telling me that he brought you to me.” Reid focused on the first part, on the confirmation that Tobias had been watching him from the webcam, but he couldn't help but remember the last time Tobias had said that to him.

_ "God gave you to me." Tobias pocketed the knife, and reached for a needle. "Raphael says that you can help. You want to help us, don't you?" _

_ There was nothing that Spencer wanted less in the entire world, than to help Tobias Hankel murder innocent people. _

_ But he knew as well as anyone that playing along with your kidnapper's fantasy could be the difference between life and death. So he nodded eagerly. _

_ "Yes. Tobias, I want to do everything I can to help you. I just- I can't help when you're giving me that." Reid could feel his breath coming in shorter and shorter bursts, the anxiety creeping through him as Tobias focused on prepping the needle. _

_ Like all the other times, it didn't work. Tobias just shook his head, and patted Spencer reassuringly on the arm. "It'll help, just trust me. You're gonna feel just fine." _

“That’s why you didn’t kill me in the cornfield.”

“No. I mean, yeah. Raphael didn’t believe me, but I convinced them to take you to Marshall. There, Raphael and my father could perform their tests.” Now he looked up at Reid and smiled. “You passed. I mean, you know that already, but… I was really, really glad that I was right. And really proud of you.” That made Reid’s heart skip a beat, and now it was his turn to blush. Not many people cared enough to compliment him. 

The blood was mostly gone now, only a few rivulets dripping down his right side. Reid was definitely not a medical doctor, but he had read enough textbooks to at least be proficient in first aid. “We’re lucky, it doesn’t need stitches. Just bandages- do you have some?” Charles had only given him the one roll, and Reid hadn’t seen any when he was looking, a time that must have been days ago. He wasn’t surprised when Tobias shook his head. 

“All right, that’s fine. We can use the towel. I’m going to need you to tear it up into strips, okay?” **  
**

Once he was properly bandaged (as properly as someone could get in these conditions), Tobias helped Reid sit against the headboard. Moving hurt like hell, but it was worth it. Laying flat on a bed when someone was standing over him had always made Reid anxious. “I know what they’re doing.” He said, mostly to himself. The bed shifted as Tobias scooted closer. “Its psychological conditioning.” 

“What’s that?” Tobias didn’t have much education, Reid was sure. He’d be surprised if his father had let Tobias stay in school any longer than he had to. He was probably even homeschooled.

“Torture, providing positive stimulus after receiving intended results. Creates a dependent relationship between the abductor and the abductee.” Reid took another deep breath. “I don’t think my team’s coming.” Reid felt compelled to say it, to put his pain out there and be heard. He wasn't sure what made him think that- surely it hadn't been long enough for them to give up?

“Oh… no. They uh, they left. Went back to Washington DC.” Tobias had the nerve to sound regretful, like he was sad for Reid.

Reid felt his heart drop into his stomach, but he forced himself to remain calm. Or, to at least sound calm. “They did?”

“Yeah.” There was a beat of silence, and Tobias reached for Reid’s hand. He allowed the touch, if only because, like a computer, his body froze when the brain was overwhelmed. His team was gone. Without him. They had left him here. They had abandoned him to a serial killer who wanted to turn him into some sort of soldier, to fight in a fake war. 

“Are you sure?” Reid had to ask, just in case. But he could already see it in his mind’s eye. All of them on the plane. Morgan with his headphones in, sleeping peacefully despite his ‘friend’s’ situation. Prentiss was probably sitting next to JJ, and he could picture them laughing together, probably trading stories about all the tricks the team had pulled on Reid in the past.

_ “You know he has a huge crush on you, right?” _

_ JJ pushes air past her lips and shakes her hair out of her face. “Duh. Did you see his face every time I called him Spence? The stupid kid was over the moon for me. And you should’ve seen him at the football game! All dressed up, and thinking I’d actually go on a date with him!” _

_ “I’ve heard this one. And then you both turn the corner and Garcia’s standing there!” They both laugh at that, and it echoes in Reid’s ears as he imagines moving through the plane, to the little table that he always sat at. Gideon is there, and Hotch. They’re playing chess, and Reid can already tell that Gideon is winning- he’s got ten moves until the game is over, unless Hotch surprises him. _

_ “I didn’t know you played.” Gideon was saying as Reid stopped at the table.  _

_ “Of course I do, everyone on the team does. We’re all just very careful not to let Reid know.” _

_ Gideon chuckles at that. “Wish I would’ve had that foresight. Damn kid drives me nuts.” _

_ “Well, you won’t have to worry about him anymore. That problem took care of itself.”  _

“I’m sure. They were talking about it on the news.” His grip on Reid’s hand tightened, and Reid took that as a cue to look up. “I will  _ never _ abandon you, Spencer. Okay?” Reid stared at him for a few seconds, trying to find some sign that Tobias was lying. Eventually he nodded- a silent agreement, and Tobias smiled gently at him before squeezing his hand once more. Then he put his arm around Reid, who froze again before making the conscious decision to relax. 

Before, he’d been fighting for his team. He thought that if he could keep it together long enough then they would find him, and everything would be okay. That didn’t matter anymore. He was going to die here, one way or the other. And soon enough Raphael would come back, or Charles. He might as well accept what little comfort was being offered.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a time skip in this chapter. It's also a little shorter than the others but there will be plenty of longer chapters to make up for it! Thank you all once again for reading and commenting and leaving kudos, I appreciate it!

**February 13th- 9:45 AM**

“That was Strauss.” Hotch explained as he stepped back into Hankel’s living room. Although it could hardly be called a living room, given the clutter and general lack of seating. “She wants us back in Virginia by tomorrow night.”

“Hotch, no!” Morgan was quick to argue, and the loudest in a sea of complaints. The only silent member of the team was Gideon, currently looking out the window and onto the front lawn. 

“I dislike it as much as you, but we have orders. And we’ve been asked to take a backseat to this case until there are any pressing developments. The local office will be following any leads, as will other offices in Florida, Alabama, Tennessee, and the Carolinas.” He paused, looking at each of their faces in turn. "We will find Reid, and we will not stop working the case. But we can do our jobs just as well from our desks. Not to mention that none of us have slept since we’ve been down here.”

“We can’t just leave him.” Garcia protested, in that voice she used when she was trying not to cry. Hotch wanted to comfort her, but they’ve never been especially close before now, and he’s not sure what to do. He’ll leave that up to Morgan- the two had gotten along thick as thieves since almost the minute Garcia had begun to work with them. 

“I’m sorry, everyone. Please have everything packed and ready to go to the Atlanta office by tomorrow morning.” He resisted the urge to apologize again, taking just a second to catch Gideon’s eye before walking out of the house once more. The other agent followed him out, and they stood together quietly for a few minutes before Hotch spoke. 

“How are you doing?” There was a bitter wind, and Hotch was glad to be wearing his coat. 

“I’m fine. Aren’t you fine?” Gideon sounded calm, if a little antsy, but he was too stiff- and his fingers were tapping out an unknown rhythm against his jeans. 

“You and Reid are close. I know how you are about these things, Jason. Especially after what happened in Boston... I want to make sure you’re okay. I can’t lose two good agents over this.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m not the one in danger here.” He leveled an eye at Hotch, turning away from the overgrown lawn. “You’re handling this surprisingly well.”   
  
“It's my job.” Hotch said simply. “Besides, I know that Reid will be fine. So there’s nothing to worry about.” Hotch knew himself. He was pragmatic, and straight forward. He trusted his team to do their jobs, and right now Reid’s job was to stay alive. He hadn’t failed Hotch yet, so there was no reason to prepare for disappointment now. 

“Be careful, or you might end up like me.” Gideon laughed at his own joke- he’d become a lot more self-deprecating since he’d come back. It was likely a coping mechanism, one that Hotch would have to examine further. 

Before he had a chance to respond, Gideon moved from his side and back into the house. Soon enough, Hotch followed.

* * *

**February 14th- 8:13 AM**

They’d been sitting against the headboard for a while, Reid's head on Tobias' shoulder, long enough that Reid fell asleep. Most of his weight was against Tobias, so he was roused when Tobias tensed. He didn’t move, hoping that whatever it was would pass. 

A few moments later, however, Tobias started to mutter under his breath. “No, not yet.”

“You had your time, now it's mine.” That was Charles’ voice, and it was enough for Reid to wake up completely. He moved slowly, careful not to startle the other personality. 

Tobias moved much faster, and he fled the bed so fast that Reid had barely enough time to redistribute his weight before he fell. “Tobias?” He called, in an attempt to ground his… Well, Reid guessed they were probably friends at this point. The cuts on his chest ached as the sudden movement pulled at them; they had been healing, slowly but surely, and Reid didn't want to do anything to open them again.

Tobias didn’t seem to hear him- he had taken several steps away from the bed and was now standing next to the table. His hands were moving rather erratically, but Reid could tell they were shaking. “Okay.” He finally conceded, then pulled something out of his pocket before turning back to the bed. 

Reid recognized the syringe, but didn’t move as Tobias came closer. He reached out, brushing a gentle hand against Reid’s cheek and neck before pushing the hair aside. Reid winced as the needle passed through layers of tissue and hit a vein. 

He felt the effects instantaneously, especially now that he was familiar with them. The slight numbing in his extremities that would soon spread to the rest of his body, the haze that spread through his mind and made his vision swim. The needle was pulled away and Tobias leaned down to whisper into Reid’s ear. “I’ll see you soon. Okay, Spencer?"

Reid nodded and let Tobias ease him flat onto the bed. It was too easy to fall into this sensation, to let the drugs coddle him and wash away his worries. For now, at least. Soon enough there would be more pain, and more of whatever they were doing. Mental conditioning. He wasn’t sure if that was the right word for it, but it was the only thing he could come up with right now. 

A heavy hand wrapped itself around Reid’s throat and he began to struggle, gasping in pain as his still fresh injuries began to burn. This was Charles. He hadn’t seen the man’s face but he knew, simply from his touch. If it was Raphael, he wouldn’t be struggling right now. The angel didn’t derive pleasure from what he did, it was simply a mission to complete. A means to an end. Reid didn't have proof that Charles derived pleasure from this, but he would certainly believe it.

Reid was forced to stop struggling as his vision began to fade- likely he’d ruined any good the bandages had done for his chest. The dull pain had returned in full.

As soon as he stopped moving the hand let go, and Reid used his little remaining strength to fill his lungs. “Good.” Charles praised. Reid wanted to turn and look at him but found that he couldn’t; his body was too heavy now- even his eyelids wanted to stay closed.

He felt his burned hand lift off the bed, and white hot pain shot through every single one of his nerves, giving Reid's body more incentive to struggle, if only for a moment. It wasn’t until Charles pulled away that Reid even realized what had happened: Charles had dug his thumb into the brand and pressed, breaking open the fresh skin that had begun to grow and causing blood to drip from Reid’s hand. 

“Please,” He couldn’t struggle but apparently he could beg. The words scraped dangerously against Reid’s damaged throat but he pressed on. “Please don’t do this. Just kill me.” That was dangerous. Charles was unpredictable, and there was always the chance he'd do it. But Reid couldn’t take it anymore. He had no idea how long he’d been here, but already everything Else seemed so far away. He wanted to hide, somewhere, in a dark room where no one could find him and hurt him ever again. The dilaudid had been better than this, and Reid was surprised to find himself missing it.

Charles seemed intent to ignore him. “Stand up.” He ordered, and Reid’s vision dipped and swayed as he felt himself move. The room spun even as his legs stopped, and Reid tried his best to check out, to go somewhere else. He didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to exist under this weight anymore. 

“Please,” The word came out as a pained whimper, forced through his teeth as the pain from his ribs ebbed for a moment.

"We're going. Move." Reid followed as Charles shoved open the door, trying his best not to jostle any of his injuries. Charles either didn't notice or didn't care, hesitating at the door only long enough for Reid to reach it before continuing to a truck parked nearby. 

Reid shied away from the bright light at first before pushing forward, keeping his head down as his eyes struggled to adjust. He stumbled over his own feet several times, but eventually made it to the truck. 

"Wasn't there a van before?" He didn't expect an answer and he didn't get one- Charles barely waited for him to close the door before speeding off.

* * *

** May 6th- 12:54 AM **

> HOTCH: 911. BAU.

It was 1 AM, it was technically still her day off, and the last person she wanted to be hearing from was Agent Aaron Hotchner. But even so, the sight of his text was enough to make her leap out of bed and throw her clothes on. The text was short and sweet, so either he hadn’t had enough time to text them the full story, or it was too complicated to explain any way other than in person. 

Prentiss grabbed her bag, which she’d packed before getting ready for bed, and barely gave herself time to kiss Sergio goodbye before she was out the door and heading to her car. 

She drove to the BAU, with absolutely no idea what was waiting for her. 

Most everybody was already there, tense and tired all at once. With a quick head count it became apparent that Hotch was the only one missing. “JJ, what’s going on?” She asked as she entered the room, looking to each of her friends for an answer. They all shrugged or shook their heads. 

“I’m not sure. If there’s a case, then it went straight to Hotch.” That was especially unusual, and the room fell into silence. Prentiss knew they were all thinking the same thing: What if this was about Reid? It had been months since they'd been taken off the case, and no word had come from the team that was supposedly investigating.

They didn’t have long to wonder, as Hotch more or less stormed into the room after a couple minutes. 

“I understand. Yes. thank you, Dave. We’ll see you when we get there, thank you again.” He hung up his phone and looked at all of them expectantly. “Garcia, Prentiss, please sit down.”

“What’s going on?” Garcia finally spoke up, looking extremely put together for someone who was presumably asleep not two hours ago. How had she had the time to curl all that hair,  _ and _ do makeup?

“Please, sit down.” Hotch waited until they were all seated to begin, and he used that time to fiddle with the tv. “An hour ago, I received this recording of a 911 call from the field office in Oklahoma.” He hit play. 

_ “911, what is your emergency?” _

There was silence on the other end, and the operator spoke again. 

_ “911, what is your emergency?”  _

Again, nothing.

_ “Is someone there?” _

Prentiss was about to ask why Hotch was showing them this when the caller finally spoke. It was quiet, like the caller had the phone away from his mouth.

_ “Do it. Now, Spencer.”  _ She saw Gideon open his mouth to say something, then shut it again.

A third voice spoke up, and Garcia audibly gasped. There was a flash of movement as she flung herself into Morgan’s arms.

_ “Please, Raphael, don’t-”  _ Followed immediately by a cry of pain, and Prentiss saw Hotch’s eyes close. How many times had he listened to this already? Reid’s voice came again, shaken and rough.

_ “I am using an example from everyday life because of your human limitations. Just as you used to offer yourselves as slaves to impurity and to ever-increasing wickedness, so now offer yourselves as slaves to righteousness leading to holiness.”  _ The recording ended there.

_  
_ _  
_ “Oh my God.” That was Reid. That was Spencer Reid. She was filled with joy upon hearing his voice before almost immediately being crushed by it. His voice was easily recognizable, but hollow- devoid of its usual cadence and upbeat attitude. Morgan beat her to the realization, still holding onto a trembling Garcia. 

“Hankel broke him.” The team just stared back, so Morgan continued. “He’s had him for three months. All this time he’s been doing who knows what to our friend, when we could’ve been there to help him.” His free hand was squeezed into a fist, and Garcia pulled herself back into her chair.

"There's more." Hotch cued up an audio recording. "The investigating team also sent me this  video recording, from a separate crime scene."

Part of Prentiss was terrified by what she knew she'd see, the other knew that they had to move forward to save Reid. You couldn't ignore evidence, as much as you wanted to.

_ It was the same as the ones from Georgia, although the footage seemed to come from a security camera in the upper corner of the room, not a computer. A man and a woman, standing in their kitchen. They were doing dishes together. Then the woman turned to put them away and the team had only a few seconds to note the look of shock on her face before a figure in a long black coat darted forward, knife in hand to stab her in the neck. _

Garcia jerked and shielded her eyes- Morgan's hand reached over just she reached for his.

_ The figure- Tobias Hankel, they knew, even though his face was covered- didn't hesitate to drop the woman on the ground as her husband turned, and soon the man fell as well. _

There was silence in the room as Hankel surveyed the bodies, and Gideon opened his mouth to say something before freezing.

_ Because from the lower corner of the video stepped Spencer Reid, holding a landline phone in his hand. There was a terrible beat of silence before their friend stepped neatly over the husband, barely acknowledging him, and laid his hand on Hankel's shoulder. They stood together for a few moments, and then the video ended. _

"This is new." Gideon finally said, voice reaching just above a whisper.

"Why is Reid with him? Why was he-" Morgan couldn't verbalize what he had just seen, so he cut himself off abruptly.

"The landline." Hotch pointed out. "We also have the 911 call."

Garcia had nothing to say, no funny comment that could break past the lump in her throat, but she pulled her hand away from Morgan's and with a few key taps, Spencer's voice came from her speakers.

_ "911, what is your emergency?" _

_ "We're at 3476 Rushwell Drive. Raphael has proven his power over those who stray." _ There was a pause.  _ "In other words, he killed them." _

The 911 operator began to ask another question, but the call ended.

"Why would Hankel let Reid make the call? He's always been the one to make the call." Reid had been gone for months, but this was the first they'd actually seen of him. He seemed skinnier, paler, but Prentiss hoped that was just the camera. She didn't mention the change of pace from the previous call; Reid wasn't scared this time.. He sounded  _ bored _ .

"Well, Hankel's never had a real partner before." Gideon pointed out.

"Reid is  _ not  _ his partner!" Morgan immediately argued. Gideon shook his head and leaned forward, taking the remote from Hotch and rewinding the video to just before Reid entered.

"Look. He's on the phone when he comes in, so he made the call without being coerced."

"So you're saying he's a killer because he called the police?!"

"Look how calm he is." Gideon continued. "He doesn't even look at the bodies the entire time- his focus is entirely on Hankel." The video continued once more, as Spencer crossed the room.

"There's no proof that he assisted with the murder other than the phone call. He's an accomplice. Not a killer." Hotch's voice was calm, but his eyes didn't leave the screen. And everyone in the room heard the unspoken addendum. That if Reid wasn't a killer yet, he could be soon.

"Why are they sending this to us now? They didn't happen at the same time, the first kill must've been at least a few days ago." JJ's voice was quiet but steady, and she didn't hesitate to meet Hotch's eye.

"They were told not to give us updates until the case was closed, but because of the acceleration in kills we've been called in. The video was from tonight, the first 911 call was three days ago." Hotch was furious, but he knew why the brass had made the decision- his team would have dropped whatever case they were working on, and there were people other than Reid that needed saving.

“There was nothing we could do.” Hotch spoke again to the silence room, trying to be neutral, though he was clearly emotional as well. “The leads were exhausted, Hankel went underground… We’ve worked cases like this before.” 

“No we fucking haven’t!” Morgan burst out of his chair and slammed his hands on the table like he was going to jump it and tackle Hotch. “That is our friend, and you wouldn’t let us work his case!”    
  
“Morgan-” Hotch tried to respond, but Morgan was already out the door and gone.    
  
“I’ll- I’ll go get him.” Garcia volunteered before practically fleeing the room. She likely didn't want to be there as much as he hadn't.

“Uh, Hotch?” JJ raised her hand a few inches off the table. “Who were you on the phone with, before you came in?”

This time, Gideon was the one who interrupted. “A consultant. I asked Hotch to call him, due to the seriousness of the case.” 

“I didn’t know the BAU hired consultants.” Prentiss asked without really asking. 

“This time, we do.” Hotch looked around at his remaining team members. “Obviously, we’re leaving now. I’ll finish briefing everyone on the plane. JJ, make sure Garcia has everything she needs to come with us?” JJ nodded silently and, with that, Hotch strode back out of the room.

* * *

**May 6- 3:02 AM**

“Derek? Tall, Dark, and Handsome?” Garcia called as she stepped into the men’s room. Ugh, she was definitely going to have to wash her hands after this. Probably her whole body.  _ The things I do for this man. _ She complained to herself.  _ He better get me a damn good Valentine’s Day present. _

Okay, ew. Derek was sitting on the floor. Of the restroom! Reid would never touch him again if he found out about this. Of course, that just made Garcia even sadder.

His head was down, and he wasn’t acknowledging her. “You know, Hotch didn’t mean it. He forgets that we aren’t robots, like he obviously is.” Normally, Morgan would make some sort of robot noise here. That just made the silence even more.. Silencier. Whatever, she wasn't a writer.

“Derek? Come on, talk to me. Please.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Well, how about.. ‘Baby Girl, you and I both know that Doctor Baby is going to be just fine’.” She did her best Derek Morgan impression, but there was not a lick of a smile on his face. Although his face was  _ very _ lickable. 

“I’m not in the mood for jokes.” He glared at her, but she was not in the least put off. 

“Fine. Then I’ll do the other Derek Morgan thing where I lay it all out for you, and I’ll do the Penelope Garcia thing where I don’t put up with your crap.” She sat down next to him, an extremely kind gesture considering where they were currently. “Because Reid is out there right now. And he’s scared, and he needs us. And we need to be there for him. But the jet can’t take off if you’re not on it, and if you don’t come with us… then I don’t want to think about what could happen. Okay? So can you put on your ‘I’m a male model’ smirk? You need to practice, because it's Reid’s least favorite out of all your smirks and then we can all listen to him scold you about proper FBI behavior protocols.”    
  
“Wait.. you guys talk about my ‘smirks’? What even is a smirk?” 

“Aw, there’s your ‘I’m too cute for my own good’ smirk.” She said in lieu of an answer. Then she stuck her hand out to help him up. Morgan looked at her for a moment before laughing just a little and accepting it. He still wanted to hit something, but it could wait for now, until it was Hankel under his fists and not a bathroom wall.

  
  
Gideon was walking by as they were walking out, and Garcia blushed, about to go into a rambling spiel about how  _ in normal circumstances I would never step foot into the boy’s bathroom but I figured since it's so late at night _ , but he spoke before she got the chance. “Come on, you two. We’re taking off now.” 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gets into the really good stuff! Almost halfway through now! This one is also shorter, but every chapter after this one is back to the regular, longer length. There's also a lot of information, I hope that everything makes sense!

**May 3- 8:51 PM**

“Hurry up and pick one.” Charles didn’t sound impatient, even though Spencer knew that he was. They had been sitting at this cafe for almost three hours now, and Spencer hadn’t found one yet. That wasn’t for lack of trying- but this was his first time out and around people in… who knew how long? It was distracting, honestly. He didn’t know where to look. 

Charles’ foot lashed out against his shin, and Spencer winced, returning his focus to the crowd. His hand moved to scratch absently at the raised flesh of his brand. It still itched sometimes, and the skin pulled against itself if he moved it too quickly, but the mark had healed nicely. It was visible, even against his already pale skin. 

“That one.” He said finally, pointing at a man walking quickly down the street. 

“Are you sure?” Charles turned to where Spencer was pointing and watched as the man, on the other side of the road, came even with the café and stopped to fiddle with his phone.

“Absolutely. See how he’s tucking his shirt into his pants? And he was looking around, which is a sign of guilt-” 

“Hurry up." Charles snapped, and Spencer nodded absently.

“Right, sorry. Plus, he’s wearing a wedding ring. And if we follow his path back to where he started…” Spencer’s finger moved back down the road to the last intersection, where a provocatively dressed woman was leaning against the entrance to an alley. At the sight of that Charles’ eyes went wide, and he stood rather quickly. 

“Don’t move, boy. I’ll be back to fetch you.” Spencer nodded obediently and let his eyes fall to the table as Charles picked up his pace, rushing across the street just as the man resumed walking. 

Spencer wrapped his hands around the coffee cup he’d gotten three hours ago. It had long since gone cold, but buying it guaranteed them a table at the cafe, for as long as they needed. 

Spencer had decided he liked coffee. It tasted familiar, but he couldn’t remember where he’d had it before. He spent only a few moments thinking about that before the thought seemed to fall away.

Spencer took a sip of the coffee. He decided that he liked coffee.

  
  


Charles came back, eventually. He didn’t say anything when he saw Spencer still sitting there, but there was a small smile on his face that Spencer _knew_ meant he’d done a good job. And a good job meant one thing, the only thing that Spencer really cared about. Sure, the mission and the job and everything was important. But he’d spent the entire day cataloguing every sight, sound, and even smell, so that he could tell Tobias everything.

Charles made a ‘come on’ gesture, one that used his head, hand, and most of his right side in a full-body jerk. Spencer didn't hesitate to stand and followed him back down the street, coffee cup still in hand. 

When they got to the motel, though, Tobias wasn’t waiting for them. Raphael was there instead, and Spencer didn’t have a moment to complain about that fact before Raphael was hauling him back outside. He’d traded Charles’ jacket for that long black trench coat that Tobias looked really nice in but that made Raphael look even scarier. 

Spencer couldn’t see the angel’s wings, but assumed they were hidden under the coat. Probably for the best, they were so distracting to him that they'd definitely catch the attention of anyone who saw them.

He followed Raphael as they walked through the empty streets in silence. The angel always wore a hood to protect his face, but had yet to insist that Spencer wear one. He wasn't a fan of the way the hood blocked his view, so Spencer was glad that he, for some reason, wasn't required to do so.

It was a long walk, and Spencer’s legs were sore by the time they’d reached their destination, but he never complained. To complain about his gift, or their work, was to complain about God, and that was a sin. And Spencer wasn’t a sinner. The mark on his hand proved that. 

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.” Spencer whispered under his breath, voice filled with just the right inflection to make it sound like he was begging. Raphael liked that, Spencer knew. 

“You won’t.” Raphael assured him as he pressed a camcorder into Spencer’s hand. “Yet.”

The house was small, with parallel windows on each side. It seemed like it would be a nice place to live, and Spencer imagined, briefly, living in it. Instead of traveling from motel to motel every week. 

The garage door was unlocked, Spencer learned, when Raphael moved towards it instead of the front door. Charles must’ve done it when he had come earlier. 

“Turn it on.” Raphael ordered, and Spencer fumbled with the camcorder for a moment before finding the right button. He nodded to Raphael, and that was when the angel entered the house. 

They made their way through the house without incident, and Raphael stopped in the kitchen to pick up the phone. 

Spencer waited quietly, swinging the camcorder around to view the whole house before he froze. There, at the end of the hallway, was the bedroom door. It was open, and there was a light on inside. He could see the sinner in his bed, asleep. Spencer zoomed in to see his chest rise and fall, and knew that soon he would take his last breath. And then he would be sent to Hell.

The thought stirred something in Spencer, and he felt his pulse quicken. The tender skin around his brand throbbed in time with it. 

He was brought back by sound coming from the telephone, as Raphael dialed the police. Spencer could hear the operator saying something, and Raphael’s eyes were on him. The phone was extended towards him, and Spencer used his free hand to reach for it. 

“Do it. Now, Spencer.” The command threaded itself through Spencer and he lifted the phone to his own ear. Just like they’d talked about. Except...

The operator said something again. “Please, Raphael, don’t-” Light flashed in Raphael’s eyes, and the wrath of God was brought down onto him, manifesting in a migraine that came and went as Raphael pleased. Spencer cried out, once, and then the pain was gone. He brought the phone back to his ear, and repeated the verse as he'd been ordered. Then he hung up the phone. 

Now it was Raphael’s turn.

* * *

**May 6th- 6:08 AM**

“The first victim was 57 year old James Franks. He was found in his bed at 11:18 PM, the call was made at 11:10.” Hotch explained as the team flipped through identical files. "The second two victims were Mary and William Hetch. The 911 calls were made at approximately the same time."

"So he's following a pattern." Gideon flipped a page in his file. "Do we know why these people were targeted?"

"Local news ran a story about them- they had apparently been stealing money from their church. Nothing on Franks though, seems he was just a normal guy, working for an architecture firm." JJ read from her own copy.

"Architects are never normal. I dated one once and all of his friends were.." Prentiss shook her head and made a show of widening her eyes and shaking her head. 

"Can confirm." Garcia nodded vigorously from her seat next to Morgan, who raised a surprised eyebrow and stared at her. 

"What?" She shrugged and turned back to her computer. "I date."

"Anyway." Morgan shook his head in disbelief. "This news story was definitely how Hankel targeted them. Apparently it even gave out their home address. But that doesn't tell us why he chose Franks."

"We'll have to look into that once we're on the ground." Hotch made a note in his folder, and Prentiss jumped in.

“Franks was cut just like the others. That’s good.” Garcia looked up from her computer in shock.

“Uh.. why exactly, is that good?”

“Because it means that Reid didn’t participate.” Gideon sounded like he was commenting on the weather. Morgan grit his teeth and said nothing, because they were right. As much as he hated it. 

Garcia looked around at all of them, like she was surprised no one else was reacting to this piece of news. 

"The second video was sent to us by the police department, who got it from the security company." Hotch changed the subject before things got uncomfortable. "Garcia, has there been any change to Hankel's website? He should have posted videos by now."

She shook her head without even pulling it up. "No, I have an alert set to go off if he uploads anything."

"How long have you had that?" Hotch frowned at her, and Garcia couldn't tell if it was worry or disappointment. 

"Since we left Georgia." She admitted after a moment. "And then after you said we were off the case I just.. Forgot."

"You forgot?" Hotch was using his disappointed voice now.. Or was it amused? The man was like a brick wall. 

She hesitated again, choosing her words carefully. "Officially, yes. I forgot."

There was a heavy sigh from the leader of their team, and the plane braced itself. "Pull it up anyways, we're going to need to review those videos."

"Yes, sir." They all released a collective breath, but it was Garcia who spoke, and she was quick to pull up the site. "Oh no."

"Oh no?" Morgan leaned over to look at her screen. 

"The site's been updated."

"I thought you said it hadn't been updated." Gideon took his glasses off to level the full force of his glare against her.

"I thought that it hadn't, but- Oh no way. No way!"

"What, what is it?" Morgan frowned at the bits of computer code on Garcia's screen. "Penelope."

"He set up a freaking- the little asshole disconnected my bot from his site!" She looked up at Gideon, then Hotch. "Pardon my language, sir. Sirs."

"How did he do that?" Prentiss asked, mostly to help Garcia move on from her verbal blunder.

"Basically, my bot latches onto the code and sees when there's a change in it. But it's also technically part of the code so if he knew what he was looking for, and he was looking for it, then he could delete it. I did not think he was that smart or I would've hidden it better."

"Is there a video of both attacks?" Hotch asked, and she nodded. 

"Press play for me." She asked Morgan, before turning the computer away from herself and towards the rest of the team. He did as she asked, and everyone leaned in.

  
  
  


_It was dark. Too dark, for a moment, but the light of a passing car showed the silhouette of a hooded figure. There was no sound as they moved through the house, except for footsteps._

Reid was probably the one holding the camera- he couldn't kill them like he had while holding a camera.

_The camera moved around, highlighting different parts of the home but always coming back around to focus on Hankel._

Gideon wondered what was going through Reid's mind; was he looking around to find some way to signal to them? Why hadn't he tried to escape?

_They got to the kitchen and the camera stopped when Hankel did. It was lighter here- a street lamp from outside shone directly into the kitchen. It was impossible to see what Hankel was doing from this angle but the camera wasn't interested- instead it moved forward into the living room, then down the hall to the bedroom. It zoomed in on the bed, visible through the door. The bedside lamp was on and Frank's sleeping form could be seen._

JJ knew it was foolish, but she kept hoping that Franks would wake up, that the police would walk in. She wanted _anything_ to happen, as long as it wasn't what she knew they were about to see.

_The camera swung back around towards the kitchen, capturing Hankel's face for the first time. In the dim light his hand was visible, reaching out and handing the phone to the camera. To Reid. There was the sound of a voice coming from the phone, but it was too muted and distorted for the words to be heard._

_"Do it. Now, Spencer."_

_"Please, Raphael. Don't-" His plea was cut short by a sudden cry of pain, and the camera jerked, causing the view to blur into indecipherable pixels._

Raphael hadn't made a move towards Reid, but he acted like he'd been hit, and hit hard. Hotch was beginning to have an idea of what exactly had been happening these past months.

_The camera evened out, but it was now focused on the floor. Still, the audio was clear. “I am using an example from everyday life because of your human limitations. Just as you used to offer yourselves as slaves to impurity and to ever-increasing wickedness, so now offer yourselves as slaves to righteousness leading to holiness.”_

There was a distinct change to Reid's voice now, recognizable in a way that it hadn't been in the 911 call. He'd been concerned and anxious, but now he was almost calm. Gideon replayed the sound in his head, and almost immediately changed his mind. Reid didn't sound calm. He sounded dead. Gideon had heard that a couple times before, in victims who had undergone severe trauma. It was a complete acceptance of the situation, and in other cases, of their eventual death. 

_There was the click of the phone, then the camera moved as it was raised to eye level again. Raphael turned away from the counter, and the camera dipped to show a sharp knife in his hand. The camera backed up to let Raphael through, and then followed close behind him._

_They moved into the bedroom, and the camera moved to the left, making sure to get both Raphael and Franks into view. There was no hesitation as Raphael moved towards the bed._

"Garcia." Morgan whispered. She quickly covered her ears, just as Raphael dragged the knife across Franks' throat. The camera angle didn't waver, a sign that Reid wasn't emotionally affected by the kill. Someone could assume that was because of his work with the FBI, but watching someone die in front of you when you're helpless to stop them? No one can be unaffected by that.

_The camera followed Raphael as he moved, back into the kitchen and through the living room, then out into the back yard. Now that they were outside the camera was picking up the sound of the police sirens. Raphael's demeanor changed and instead of the confident stride he was now crouched and running toward the garden gate. The camera followed him for a moment before the camera began to shake and the video ended._

  
  
  


Morgan leaned forward without being prompted and moved on to the next one. It was immediately obvious that this was not the security camera. Meaning that Hankel didn't have access to that video, which proved he had changed his M.O..

_The camera is only showing a hardwood floor, partially lit from the left. "-he killed them." Reid can be heard, and then the camera swings up. Just ahead is a small square archway- a doorway with no door. That is where the light is coming from, and the camera picks up the echo of voices, quiet enough that the words themselves are lost. The camera moves closer to the door but there's no sound of movement, and it crosses to the left of the doorframe. There's a quick flash of the kitchen, and the people inside, before Reid turns to look back the way he'd come. There's a burst of pixelated movement and then the camera is peeking out into the kitchen. Straight ahead are Mr. and Mrs. Hetch, shoulder to shoulder at the sink. On the right is a larger archway, and the light is restricted past that point._

_Mrs. Hetch turns, a small pile of plates in her arms. She crosses to the dishwasher on the other side of the room, too busy with the dishes to notice the shifting of shadows that precedes Raphael's arrival. But finally she looks up, and there's a blur of movement as Raphael darts forward and slices her throat. The plates shatter against the ground, and Mr. Hetch finally turns, taking two steps toward Raphael before befalling the same fate as his wife. The camera moves, coming from behind the doorway to follow as Raphael goes back to each body, likely adding the two additional lacerations that were part of Hankel's M.O._

_He stands up from Mrs. Hetch's body and stares at it for a moment before turning towards that camera. "Turn it off. Please."_

"He said 'please.'" JJ noted at the same time Gideon said, "That was an acceleration." They looked at each other for a moment and then looked away.

Hotch broke the silence. “Garcia, have there been any reports of electronics stores broken into in the area? Specifically computers, but video cameras as well. Hankel won’t stray from his routine- he has to have put these videos on his site somehow.” With a few clicks of her mouse, Garcia found the answer. 

“No, no stores in the area have had computers stolen in the last month."

“Widen it out to surrounding cities.” Hotch suggested. “It's possible he may have taken the equipment somewhere else and transported it here.” 

“Alright.. Looks like there were a handful of break ins in the past three weeks, but they’ve all been solved.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Gideon spoke up. “He needs to be able to spread his message, otherwise the killings are essentially pointless.”

“Is it possible that Hankel bought a computer, instead of stealing it?” Prentiss sat up straighter as she spoke, growing more confident in her idea. “I mean, the guy has some seriously strict morals, and I’m pretty sure the Bible is anti-stealing. Garcia-”

“Already on it, lady lover." Garcia did a good job of keeping her voice even. "There have been sales of computers, about 20 in all paid with a credit card, but none of them are registered to Tobias or Charles Hankel. Is it possible he paid in cash?” 

Hotch was the one who answered. “It could be, but we had all of Hankel’s accounts frozen.”

“And there wasn’t very much money in them.” Gideon added.

“We’ll have to interview local shop owners, see if they recognize Hankel.”

“Did they leave a Bible verse on the scene?” Morgan asked the group. JJ was the one to answer.

“Yeah. Hankel highlighted part of Revelations 6. ‘When he opened the fifth seal, I saw under the altar the souls of those who had been slain for the word of God and for the witness they had borne. They cried out with a loud voice, “O Sovereign Lord, holy and true, how long before you will judge and avenge our blood on those who dwell on the earth?” Then they were each given a white robe and told to rest a little longer, until the number of their fellow servants and their brothers should be complete, who were to be killed as they themselves had been.’” She read the passage aloud and shook her head, before looking over to Gideon.

“‘I saw under the altar, those who had been slain for the word of God.’” He repeated. “This is a taunt. ‘They were told to rest a little longer-’ He’s telling us that he’s not going to stop until all the sinners are dead.”

“We’ll get to him first.” Hotch checked his watch; they were going to be landing soon. “Everyone try to get some sleep. Gideon and Morgan, go to the James Franks' house. Garcia and I will head to the field office to start setting up, and Prentiss and JJ, I need you to canvass the local electronics stores.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your kind words and kudos they mean a lot!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, thank you all for your comments and kudos once more! I've reread this fic about 10 times throughout my writing, editing, and posting process, so all the words sort of sound like nonsense now, but your continued support means the world to me! 
> 
> In this chapter, the team starts the investigation. Things are also going to pick up from here, so be prepared!

**May 6th- 8:03 AM**

“Nice to meet you all, I’m Agent Portner. You must be Agent Hotchner.” Agent Portner was a few inches taller than JJ, but her hair was almost as dark as Prentiss’s. She wore the usual dark attire that most special agents seemed comfortable in, and she seemed just as nice as she had been on the phone, if a little tired. It was barely eight in the morning, though, so Hotch didn’t put it past her.

“Yes,” Hotch shook her hand before turning. “This is our technical analyst Penelope Garcia. The rest of the team is already out in the field."

“You guys get to work fast,” She commented. “We’ve got a conference room set up for your team, like the other agent requested. I believe he said his name was Rossi? He’s in there now.” Hotch nodded in understanding and Portner turned to lead them to the conference room.

“Finally! I was worried I’d have to catch this guy all by myself.” Someone else might have taken offense, but Hotch was used to David Rossi's sense of humor, and hearing his mentor's voice after so long was enough for him to find his smile.

Gideon has always said that Rossi was a loner, a too-blunt workaholic. And Hotch would always say that it took one to know one. 

“Dave. Thank you again for your help." He accepted Rossi's hug and ignored Garcia's look of shock. 

“Same here. Although, the circumstances are obviously not ideal.” Rossi shrugged and turned his attention to Garcia, who was still uncharacteristically silent. “You must be Penelope Garcia. Aaron’s told me a lot about you.”

“Uh… what, exactly?” Garcia turned towards Hotch with a petrified look, voice squeaking ever so slightly.

“Just that you’re marvelous at your job.” Rossi assured her.

“Oh, that’s- well-” Garcia seemed to be at a loss for words, so she just turned around and started to unpack her computer and the other.. Computer things. Hotch didn't know what any of it was called, if he was being honest.

“I have to set up the case board, if you’d like to lend a hand?” Hotch offered. “I can give you all the details of the case.”

* * *

**May 6th- 8:27 AM**

Morgan showed his badge to the officer posted along the perimeter of Frank's yard. He was there to deter any civilians; luckily there wasn’t much of a crowd, given the early hour, and the few neighbors that were standing around moved on after a few minutes of nothing exciting happening. He made sure to look at each of their faces, trying to memorize them the way that Reid undoubtedly would’ve. “I’m Agent Morgan, with the FBI.” 

The officer stumbled over a greeting and lifted the tape. Morgan didn’t waste time thanking him and instead just strode onto the front lawn of the house. The crime scene. The building his friend had been standing in mere hours ago. Almost 12 hours had passed since the crime. This was the worst part, always arriving too late to save the people that needed saving. 

Morgan had to remind himself that it wasn't too late for Reid.

Gideon caught up to him, having hung back to ask the officer a few questions. “He says that the garage door was left open- that’s probably how they got in. There's an alley in the back, which was smart of Hankel. Responding officers would’ve spotted them on the street immediately.” He hesitated when Morgan didn’t say anything, then walked towards the garage and disappeared inside. 

After another moment, Morgan followed. 

Gideon didn't think about things like other people. Maybe that was why he'd gotten along with Reid so well. Gideon always saw connections where they couldn't, because he put himself into the unsub's shoes. It was a good skill to have, but the entire team could see how it weighed on him, even more so now that Reid was the one they were profiling. It was like he'd made some awful deal with the devil. Every case Gideon solved, he lost a little bit more of himself. But he still walked in every day, still gave everything he had to help other people. 

“Alright, I’m the unsub.” Surely Gideon noticed Morgan's attitude, but he ignored it. He stepped completely into the garage and examined the concrete floor. “I know I’ve got to be quiet, but I’ve also got a hostage."

“Gideon..” Morgan shook his head. “I can’t do this. I can’t think about him like that.” 

“Well, you have to. Because this is the only way to figure out what happened.” 

When no other encouragement was forthcoming, Morgan sighed and rolled his eyes. He knew that Gideon was struggling with it, and it was frustrating that he was so good at hiding it. “Well, Reid isn't technically a hostage. Based on the videos, it's possible.." Morgan closed his eyes and sighed, but pushed through the swell of emotion. "It's possible that Reid is either working with Hankel, or Hankel has some way of controlling him to keep him from acting out. He trusts him, or else he wouldn't include him in this. He'd just tie Reid up somewhere until he got back."

“Last time we saw Reid, he was leaving us clues.” Gideon moved forward from the garage and into the entrance of the house. “So maybe he thinks that staying with Hankel is his best chance to help us track him down.”

Yeah, that sounded like something Reid would do. “But Reid wouldn’t stand by and let Hankel kill someone. So there’s got to be something else.” They moved down the hall and into the kitchen, where the phone was sitting off the hook. “Last time, Reid quoted the wrong verse. Is it possible that he did something like that again?”

Gideon shook his head. “There wasn’t anything in the 911 call that could’ve been a message. He didn’t tell us the book or chapter.” 

Morgan sighed once more and moved out of the kitchen, down the hall and to the bedroom. The bloody sheets and body were gone, leaving just the bloodstained mattress. “Alright. So Hankel has him make the phone call. Franks is still asleep, so he kills him, and then they leave.” Morgan tried to forget that second call, and the blunt, almost self-assured way Reid had spoken.

"And Reid records it all." Gideon shook his head. "He really does trust him. We can use that."

Gideon stepped out into the hallway, leaving Morgan alone. Something must have occurred to him, and Morgan let it go. If he wanted company, he would have said something.

Morgan looked towards the bed. No signs of a struggle- Hankel was an efficient killing machine, that was for sure. If Reid crossed him… he'd be dead before they could do anything.

“They pulled Reid’s prints off of the phone, but nowhere else. And nothing from Hankel.” Gideon interrupted his thought process as he reentered the room.

“He doesn’t care that we know about Reid, then. But he’s still protecting himself.” Morgan was even more confused. Didn’t Hankel know that an FBI agent’s prints would show up in pretty much any database? 

“It’s probably subconscious. Hankel knows that we know who he is, but it's likely that he isn’t fully aware of what’s going on inside his own head.”

“I think we’ve gotten all we can from here. Let’s head around the side- I saw an alley behind the house, they could’ve gone that way.” It was starting to feel like the walls were closing in around them.

Gideon nodded and led the way. Not a single blade of grass was out of place in the small yard- Franks must've kept it very well maintained. All in all, it was a normal house, and there was no obvious reason why Hankel would decide to kill him. 

The garden gate was open, and Morgan walked through it and into the alley behind. He nodded to Gideon, who walked left while Morgan walked right. 

It seemed to be just another alley, with weeds and rocks and some graffiti. He walked all the way down the alley and looked out onto the street beyond for anything that stood out. 

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and Morgan flicked it open without looking. “Morgan here.”

“Hey, sugar cake! I’m calling because I’ve got more information on James Franks. He worked at a consulting firm only a few blocks away from his house. And he doesn’t own a car, so it's a safe bet he walked.”

“Thanks, baby girl. Gideon and I are at the house right now, we’ll walk down that way before heading back, see if we find anything.”

“Alright, cool.” He was expecting her to hang up, but the line stayed open. 

“Is there something else?”

“No, it's just… do you know this Rossi guy?” Her voice dropped into a not-so-subtle whisper.

“I’ve never met him, but Gideon’s told stories. Reid’s read all his books, too. Why?”

“Because apparently Hotch and Gideon brought him in as a consultant?"

"What, really? Gideon's never allowed someone else to consult on a case." 

"I _know_." Morgan could practically see Garcia, leaning over her computer, shoulders hunched like she always did when she talked smack and didn't want anyone to hear.

“Morgan!” Gideon called from the far end of the alley. “I found something!”

"Gotta go, love you." Morgan hung up before he could hear her reply.

That ‘something’ turned out to be a syringe, discarded near a clump of weeds right before the street.

“Do you think that’s Hankel’s?” They’d been under the impression that Hankel had stopped using, but it was completely possible that he’d never quit or even started again at some point. 

“It’s either his, or someone else’s. If someone else was here though, they might have seen something. We should get it to the lab just in case.” Gideon fell silent, then continued. “It's interesting that there’s only one. If this were a common spot for someone to shoot up, there’d be a lot more evidence.”

“I’ll go get a bag.” Morgan offered. “By the way, Garcia called. She says that Franks walked to and from work, I figure we’ll check it out.” **  
**

The road wasn’t busy this time of day, but there were a large number of shops, and plenty of heavy foot traffic. Gideon and Morgan went to Franks’ office to talk to the security guard, who was no help at all. He hadn’t seen Hankel before, and if he did then he didn’t remember. Morgan thanked him for his time then followed Gideon back out to the street.

“Why would Hankel target this guy?” Morgan finally had to ask. “His only computer was the one at work, so he couldn’t’ve known where he lived. And it really seems like this guy was just a classic, no-social-life workaholic.”

“Everyone is like a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody.” Gideon recited the quote without really thinking about it, his eyes scanning the crowd before focusing on something down the street. “And I think we just found our victim’s.”

“What?” Morgan asked as he sped up to keep pace with Gideon. 

“Think about it. Why would a man, with the finances to buy a car, walk?”

“He only lives a few blocks away, it's good exercise.” 

“That’s not it.” Gideon pointed this time, to the next intersection.

There was a clump of three girls, all dressed provocatively and walking together down the road. Realization dawned as Morgan’s brain finally caught up with Gideon’s.

“Get out of here,” One of the girls rolled her eyes as Gideon all but ran up to them. “It's almost 9, don’t you guys have day jobs?”

“That’s why we’re here.” Gideon bit out, barely giving them enough time to see his credentials before putting them away. He was breathing a little heavy from the almost-running. “Do any of you know this man, seen him around?” He held up the picture of Franks, and the girls looked at each other, then back at the photo. The one in the middle spoke up- she was shy and quiet, probably new at the job. 

“Yeah, he’s Cattie’s regular. Guy comes by almost every afternoon.” She didn't elaborate, and she didn't need to. 

“Was he here yesterday?” Morgan interjected. The girl paused as she thought about it, then nodded. 

“Same time as always.” She looked at her friends, and the one who had spoken before stepped forward again. 

“Are we under arrest or something?”

Gideon quickly shook his head. “No, no. You’re free to go, I just have one more question. Do you recognize either of these men, as well? They would’ve been on the street around the same time as the first one.” He held up the pictures of Reid and Hankel. The girl pointed at Hankel’s picture. 

“Him, I definitely remember. The dumbass almost got hit by a car trying to cross the street. The other guy, I don’t know.” She flashed Morgan a smile. “I’m pretty busy.”

Morgan did not smile back. “Where was he?”  
  
“Over there, at the café.” She pointed across the street to a coffee shop, which, as they watched, flicked its indoor lights on. 

******  
**

“The manager didn’t remember Hankel.” Morgan began as he walked back out of the café. Gideon was sitting at one of the patio tables, staring across the street.

“But?” Gideon prompted without looking up. 

“She remembered Reid.” Morgan was trying to keep calm, and he’d managed it earlier, at the crime scene. But now they were back to his friend, and there was nothing to distract him. “Said that he bought a small black coffee and sat out on the patio for the rest of her shift. For like, six hours. She’s sending over the tapes.” He shook his head. “He was right here, Rossi. He bought a damn coffee. What the hell is that kid doing?”

Gideon had an idea, but he wasn’t going to tell Morgan. He wasn’t going to tell anyone, until he knew for sure. “You know this isn’t Hotch’s fault, right?”

Morgan looked over at him incredulously, feeling like he'd just gotten conversational whiplash. “Are we really doing this right now?”

“I’m just saying. He wants to find Reid, same as all of us.”

“If we’d’ve stayed in Georgia then Reid would be with us right now. Hotch was the one who made us go back-”

“That was Strauss, actually. And what would you have done if we had stayed? Gone knocking on every door in the state?”

“If it would’ve helped!”

Now Gideon stood, and turned back to face him. “No. The only thing we could’ve done in Georgia was sit on our asses, when there are who knows how many others out there that need our help at any given moment. Hotch saw the bigger picture, and so would’ve Reid if he had been with us.” Morgan tried to interrupt, but Gideon put his hand up. “Now, we have a chance to do something. But you’re no good to us if all you can think about is the past. Do you understand?”

Morgan glared at him for a moment before nodding. He hated Gideon and his tough love speeches, he really did. 

“Good. Then let’s get going.”

* * *

**  
  
**

**May 6th- 8:23 AM**

Apparently, a lot of electronics shops open early. Or it’s just the universe, bending itself to try to appease Prentiss. She was nice, sure. But it was the same way that a police dog was nice: all smiles and tail-wags until the suspect was within range.

JJ had to resist the urge to fall asleep in her seat. The scant hour of sleep she'd gotten on the plane had done nothing, especially because it had been that weird sort of half-sleep where she was still aware of what was going on around her.

Prentiss seemed to notice her exhaustion, and after several minutes of awkward silence decided to speak up. “Once we’re done here, Hotch'll probably let us go to the hotel."

“I wouldn't leave the field office even if Hotch ordered us to. I doubt Morgan will either." **  
**

JJ was definitely way calmer than she had been three months ago, but there was still that restless energy. Prentiss wasn’t sure if it was grief, or fear, or guilt. Probably a mix of all three, and many more emotions besides that. The others didn’t think it was good- she could see the way they looked at JJ, like she was made of glass. She _had_ been the last one to see Reid, after all. 

Prentiss knew better, though. She knew that a certain amount of loss, of struggle? It gave you a backbone, or strengthened the one you already had. She could see JJ becoming stronger because of this- as long as she didn’t go over the deep end, this would be a good learning experience for her. 

Of course, Prentiss was more ruthless than her team members, she’d noticed. It had taken some time to perfect her rookie routine before she’d come to the BAU, but it was definitely the easiest role she’d ever played. It certainly helped that she genuinely had no idea what the BAU did, until she saw it in action.

“It has been difficult.” Prentiss agreed. "But I'm sure we can trick him. Maybe put melatonin in his coffee."

"I still don't know how you're doing this." JJ waved her hand, as if gesturing to whatever she meant by 'this'. Prentiss understood.

“Well, like I said. I’m just good at compartmentalizing. I must’ve picked the skill up from my mother.” She said the last part with a slight eye roll and an exasperated sigh, which she could tell made JJ smile, even though she was looking out the window. There was no answer, but Prentiss kept going. “Let’s hope that’s the only thing I got from her.” 

The GPS beeped to tell them they had arrived at the first shop, which was good. It gave Prentiss an excuse to fall silent. She considered JJ to be a good friend at best, and an excellent colleague at worst, but they hadn't had time to connect in any meaningful way, and it had been an uphill battle trying to correct that. JJ seemed particularly adverse to connecting with other women, for some reason.

**  
  
**

The first two stores were a bust; neither one remembered Hankel or Reid. JJ didn’t say anything, but Prentiss could tell that she was worried. If the computers were a bust then that was another dead end on a long list, and the team couldn't take too many more hits.

Prentiss considered asking her to wait in the car for the next one, let her get just a few minutes of rest, but she knew that JJ would shut her down. So instead she said nothing. 

“I’m Agent Prentiss, with the FBI.” Prentiss held up her badge to the store owner, who almost immediately straightened up and put away his magazine. 

“Don’t you guys already have enough spy equipment?” He sounded mildly accusing- a conspiracy theorist that wasn't serious enough about his cause to actively defy the government.

“Do you sell ‘spy equipment’?” JJ asked. “I thought this was an electronics store.”

The guy glared at her. “Yeah. What else do you use a camera for?”

Prentiss pushed right past that little tidbit and set Reid and Hankel's photos on the counter. “We need to know about a customer you may have had. Do you recognize either of these men?”

“Yeah. That one on the left. Came in like, a week ago.” He gestured vaguely to Hankel.

“Did he buy anything?” JJ stepped forward to stand even with Prentiss. 

“Uh.. yeah. A camcorder, I think.”

“You’re sure? No computers?”

“Yeah, I’m sure, lady. I’ve got the credit card slip around here somewhere, you want that?” Prentiss nodded and the man turned around to dig through a filing cabinet. 

JJ and Prentiss shared a look, but neither said anything. Apparently this wasn't a dead end.

The clerk turned around again and held out a small piece of paper. Prentiss examined it and frowned. “This says that the credit card was owned by someone named Samantha Holden. Are you sure this is the right receipt?”

“Definitely. Guy was my last customer of the day, that receipt was right on top of the pile.” He hesitated, and suddenly became defensive. “I don’t look at the names. Purchases under 100 dollars- I don’t worry about making them sign, either. It's legal.” 

“Yeah, we don’t care. We are going to need your security tapes, though.”

“I don’t have any. The cameras have been on the fritz since last month, and my repair guy ghosted me."

“That’s fine. They wouldn’t be able to tell us anything we don’t already know.” Prentiss said the last part to JJ before picking the photos back up and walking out. JJ followed, and the clerk stared after them a moment before turning back to his magazine.

* * *

**May 6th- 9:08 AM**

“Oh, just in time!" Garcia waved JJ and Prentiss over as they entered the conference room. "I looked into Samantha Holden.” 

“And?” Prentiss asked, maneuvering around the small area to look over her shoulder. 

“She lives in California, was on vacation in Georgia when she reported her credit card stolen yesterday. Just before it was shut down, whoever stole it did purchase a camcorder at Hank’s Electronics, the store you were just at.”

“So much for not wanting to steal, then." 

Gideon and Morgan walked in at that moment. Morgan looked frustrated, but not more so than he had on the plane, so JJ didn't say anything. Maybe Prentiss was right about the hotel. Did putting melatonin in someone's coffee count as drugging them? Wouldn't the coffee just negate the effects of the melatonin anyway? **  
**

“We found a used syringe at the crime scene.” Morgan informed the group. “It’s already been sent to the lab, so we should get the results in a few hours.”

“And what about his job?" JJ asked Morgan, but Gideon responded. It wasn't technically an answer, because it didn't have anything to do with JJ's question, but it wasn't unrelated so she'd take it.

“We found out why he chose Franks.” Gideon began scribbling on a notecard, and posted it on the board under Franks’ picture. ‘Sexually Immoral’ stared back at them in all caps. “Franks walked to and from work every day, right past a frequent pick up point for prostitutes.”

“One of them said that she saw Hankel cross the street around the time Franks left for work.” Morgan picked up the conversation. “We got the tapes from a coffee shop in that area. Baby girl, did you-” The computer beeped, and Garcia nodded. 

“They just loaded. Want to watch?” It was difficult, squeezing five people behind the computer, but soon enough it was done and Garcia pressed play.

The feed itself was split into four cameras. In order they showed: The front door and cash register, the patio exit, and two different angles of the patio itself. 

“The cashier told me that they came in around four.” Morgan prompted, and Garcia nodded as she maneuvered the video to 3:50 PM. She sped it up halfway, and they all watched for only a few seconds before Gideon’s hand flew up and Garcia paused it. 

“There he is.” Gideon was practically growling into Garcia’s ear, and she mentally pushed away the joke that popped into her head as she pressed play, this time at a normal speed. 

“Oh my god. That’s-” She couldn’t force the words out of her mouth so Prentiss finished her sentence. 

“That’s Reid.”

“He looks so different.” Garcia almost hadn’t recognized him at first. His hair was short now, way too short for her liking. It had been long on the security camera, which meant this was recent. And.. something else. She couldn’t exactly put her finger on it, but as she watched him follow Tobias Hankel into the café, she knew something was terribly, horribly wrong. 

Gideon was still seated, but his hands were clenched into fists and she could just tell that he wanted to get up and move. Whether to find Reid or to just hit something, she couldn’t say.

They all watched as Hankel stopped and pressed something into Reid’s hand before walking out to the patio and sitting down. 

“Which personality do you think it is?” Prentiss asked, unable to properly evaluate the body language. But she knew that the others had been obsessing over the previous videos- watching and rewatching like new information would appear. 

“It's Tobias.” Gideon answered through gritted teeth, though the pause between her question and his answer was a moment too long. Even he wasn’t sure. “Charles Hankel is too controlling to be able to leave him alone.”

They all watched as Reid stood in line. He looked at the menu, and the camera was angled perfectly so that they could watch his face twist in confusion. It was too familiar, and Garcia couldn’t help the tears that collected in her eyes. His hands were fiddling with whatever was in them, presumably money, and he kept glancing down at it, then over towards the patio entrance. When he reached the front of the line, the cashier’s body language changed. They couldn’t see her face, but she was definitely flirting with him. Reid, however, didn’t react at all- a common response from him. He likely had no idea that she was being anything more than kind. 

He also pointed to something on the menu. She turned to read it and then turned back to him, nodding before pushing a few buttons and accepting the money.

“Did the cashier remember what they spoke about?” Prentiss asked.

“She said he was asking about some of the menu items. Nothing out of the ordinary.” Except that Morgan’s voice was a little too tight. Gideon thought that he’d have to prompt him to continue, but Morgan spoke again before he could say anything. “She said that he seemed confused, like he'd never been in a coffee shop before. That’s why she remembered him.” He took a deep breath, and it sounded so-so pitiful that Garcia reached over to take his hand. “I don’t understand. He could have told her to call the police, call us. Why did he just-” 

“I don’t know.” Prentiss stared at Morgan, and everyone could see gears turning slowly in his head. Rossi and Hotch chose that moment to return to the conference room. Hotch was wheeling a tv and Rossi... Was staring at the exposed computer screen. Garcia felt the sudden urge to shut it, to hide her poor Spencer from a stranger’s prying eyes. They'd scarcely been there for an hour, and she hadn't gotten the chance to do a proper analysis on him. The others were profilers, but Garcia could tell if a man was good or bad all on her own. 

“I got this,” Hotch spoke into the sudden silence of the room. “So we don’t need to crowd Garcia.”

Garcia nodded her thanks and stood, taking just a moment to wipe her eyes before moving to start the screen transfer. JJ joined her at the tv and together they started moving and adjusting cables.

“You couldn’t’ve brought some coffee or something?” Gideon directed his question to Rossi, who was still standing in the doorway. 

“Do you not have two legs? And two arms?” Rossi’s tone was cordial, but his eyes hardened. “I’m not somebody’s coffee guy.” 

“No, you’re just the guy who helps other people fetishize serial killers.” 

“Jason.” Hotch jumped in before this could get ugly. “Dave. Don’t forget why we’re here.”

“I haven’t.” Rossi didn’t take his eyes away from Gideon, however. “You know what, Aaron? I think I’ll go make sure the hotel didn’t give our rooms away.” He grabbed his suit jacket off a chair and walked briskly out of the room.

It was deadly quiet. JJ and Garcia were frozen where they were, bent around the tv. Everyone was looking at either Hotch or Gideon. Except for Gideon, who was looking at the door. And of course Hotch was looking at Gideon. He was not trying to keep his anger a secret, and from where they were standing both Morgan and Prentiss could see the way his jaw was clenching. That was his ‘so mad that I could spit’ face. Prentiss had never been on the other end of it, but Morgan had assured her- she didn’t want to be. 

Gideon returned to the file sitting in front of him, but it was impossible to tell if he was faking his nonchalant attitude.

“Gideon.” Hotch said more in that one word than Reid could have in an entire research paper. Then he turned and stormed out as well, exiting towards the elevators.

“Well,” Gideon finally spoke up. “You all should finish reviewing the video.” He let the file fall out of his hands and onto the table before standing and walking out of the room. 

“Oh my god.” Prentiss started as soon as he was out of earshot. “Did I just black out for a minute or did that really happen?”

“I’ve honestly never seen him like that.” JJ added from behind the tv stand. “I thought Gideon and Rossi were friends?”

“Nah.” Morgan shook his head. “They were, at one point. But right before Rossi retired they had some huge fight. Gideon never told you about it?”

“Gideon isn’t exactly one to tell us about his personal life.” She shrugged and finished plugging in all the right cords. The tv lit up and began to turn on. 

“Alright. Computer is connected, tv is on…” Garcia pressed a few buttons and the video feed popped up on the tv, paused once more. 

Prentiss glanced out at the bullpen before taking a seat at the table. Everyone else followed her lead, trying to shake off the weirdness of the past few minutes. 

They watched as the cashier handed Reid his drink. He took it, both hands holding the cup between them, and walked quickly out to the patio. His form moved from one camera to the next, and they watched as he sat across from Hankel. 

“Oh! Did you see that?” Prentiss almost shouted. 

“What, what?” JJ and Garcia both turned to look at her. 

“Back up a few seconds, right before Reid comes out. Watch Hankel.”

Hankel had been staring through the patio entrance towards Reid, but as Reid began to approach his demeanor changed. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair and then straightened as Reid came through the door. His shoulders lowered, and through the grainy camera they could just barely make out how the micro expressions on Tobias’ face drained away, leaving harsh lines and a determined frown. “He just changed personalities.” Morgan muttered under his breath. They watched Reid sit at the table, except he was much more stiff, now. 

“Reid definitely isn’t comfortable with this one.” JJ noted. On screen, Reid and Hankel exchanged a few words, then Reid turned his attention to the crowd. His hands were still wrapped around the cup, and Garcia could almost convince herself that this was just Reid, sitting at any coffee shop in D.C. He was leaning forward, one leg crossed over the other in that way that Morgan always teased him about. 

“Garcia, fast forward. The cashier said they were there for at least a few hours, and the call didn’t come in until around eleven.”

The video feed sped up, and they watched hours pass by in minutes. On Morgan’s cue Garcia moved it back to normal speed at 7:30. There was no sound, but they could see Hankel move a little every once in a while, opening his mouth like he was talking. Reid didn’t seem to respond, other than nodding occasionally. He still hadn’t touched the coffee, and was staring out at the street.

Garcia felt herself jump at a sudden movement, and it took her a second to realize that Hankel had literally _kicked_ Reid! She automatically covered her eyes, scared that it might go further.

She didn’t see what happened next, but she heard JJ’s quiet gasp next to her. “What, what is it?” She resisted the urge to peek out from behind her fingers. 

“Reid just pointed across the street. Hankel got up and he left.” 

“What does that mean?” Her Morgan-sense was tingling, and not in the good way. 

“This was right after Franks left work.” Morgan answered. “He’s making Reid choose the victims.” They had assumed this, but seeing it for real was a whole other ballgame, as Gideon would say.

“I’m going to get Hotch.” JJ stood rather abruptly and hurried out.

* * *

**May 6th- 9:24 AM**

Rossi was gone by the time Hotch got outside, which he was grateful for. It wouldn’t do any good if two FBI agents were caught having a brawl outside the building, like Gideon and Rossi seemed inclined to do.

Hotch checked his phone for messages, and was disappointed that there weren’t any. He’d hoped for at least one, but honestly wasn’t surprised. Things had gotten steadily more difficult since Jack was born, but now with Reid gone his home life was practically nonexistent. He knew Haley understood, but he also knew how hard it was for her.

He was debating whether or not to call when Gideon stepped into his eyeline. Hotch sighed and tucked his phone away with a reminder to do it later. 

“She wants to hear from you just as much as you want to hear from her.” Gideon began the conversation with a deflection, as he so often did. “Even if you don’t believe it.”

“What are you doing, Gideon?” Hotch was _not_ in the mood to discuss his personal life. “It's bad enough that we’re here in the first place, but I can’t have you jeopardizing the case and our friend’s life because of something that happened ten years ago.”

“That’s not what this is about.” Gideon sounded like he was about to go into a spiel but Hotch interrupted before it could start. 

“I understand that you’re upset,” They’d agreed not to profile each other but Gideon had never been a fan of that rule, so Hotch didn't feel too bad about breaking it. It wasn’t difficult to pinpoint and focus on the tension in Hotch’s voice, how it shook imperceptibly. For some reason, it always made Gideon think about Hotch’s father.

“And we need you on this case. But if we can’t trust you to play nice, with someone who _you_ insisted that I bring into this, then I will send you back to Quantico to work from there.” Hotch never made a threat that he didn’t intend to keep, Gideon knew. But in this instance, he did question the validity of it.

The area of their personal bubble went quiet, and it took Gideon a few seconds to realize that Hotch was waiting for an answer. He wondered if Hotch knew how much like his father he’d turned out to be. If he knew that was the real reason Sean never came around anymore. “You’ll have to get him to agree to this, too.” Gideon wouldn’t apologize for his behavior. He never had. It didn’t make sense, when the damage had already been done. “But I suppose, I can keep my mouth shut. For Spencer’s sake.” Hotch nodded, seeming to accept that, and it got quiet again- there was still a weight between them. Gideon might as well be the one to cut the cord. 

“You already know what’s going on. A change in M.O. like this…” 

“I know.” Hotch kept his voice low, like if he spoke too loud it would bring their worst fears to pass. “That’s why I need both of you on this case. We need to catch them before it's too late.”

“Uh.. Hotch?” JJ’s voice came from the entrance, and Hotch and Gideon turned as one to answer her. “We found something big. Really big.”

  
  


The rest of the video wasn’t surprising, but it still hurt to watch. To know that their friend was being put through this. Garcia had excused herself from the room, before they’d replayed the video, but the others had stayed. 

After Hankel had moved off camera to follow Franks to his house, Reid hadn’t moved. He’d stayed seated for over an hour, waiting patiently while the sun set, until Hankel returned and they left together. “Face recognition catches them passing back by the café an hour later, after they closed. We’re guessing that they went to grab the camera and other supplies from wherever they’re staying.” Prentiss filled them in.

“Hotch, something’s going on here. This isn’t right.” Morgan’s barely concealed frustration was bubbling to the surface once again. 

“I know. We have a theory as to why that is, but I need to go get Dave from the hotel first. Morgan, call and check on the syringe found at the scene. Everyone else-” He pointed at the frozen image of Reid and Hankel walking past the café. “Work with Garcia. Wherever they’re staying, it's a 30 minute walking distance from the café. We need that location as soon as possible.” He pulled his phone out and was once more disappearing into the elevators. 

The four of them still there all glanced at each other before moving their separate ways. There was a new sense of urgency, one borne of having an actual task and the desperate need to find their friend. 

Hotch explained the situation to Rossi as they returned from the hotel, focusing more on their theory than Gideon. He wasn't surprised that Rossi had already seen what the team could not- although whether that was because of his experience, or the fact that the team didn't want to see it, was up in the air. 

He also managed to get Rossi to agree to be professional, though that was a much more polite conversation that involved three separate Italian curse words directed at their mutual friend.

They were set upon as soon as they were back in the building. "We've got a list of places they could be staying. Morgan just got back from the lab as well- it's a slow day so we've got the results." Prentiss pushed the information out as fast as she could, anxious to go upstairs and see the video. Not in the good way, though. In the 'puking right before the biggest test of the school year' kind of way.

Hotch nodded through it, bracing himself internally for whatever they were about to find. 

Morgan was waiting in the conference room, and he rounded on the group. "Hotch. The lab results.. They found DNA on the needle, but. It wasn't Hankel's, or someone else's. It was Reid's." Unlike Prentiss' hurried and precise manner, Morgan seemed to choke on the information he was trying to present. "And they found traces of something called scopolamine. He said in high doses it can cause 'extreme suggestibility'."

Hotch glanced at Rossi, who nodded before looking across the room to Gideon. "Thank you, Morgan. Everyone," It was pointless to call everyone's attention to him, because they were already looking. Garcia's face was red like she'd been crying, and it hurt Hotch to think that soon she would probably be crying once again. "There is one angle that we haven't considered, but the information from the lab confirms it."

"What is it?" JJ's voice was tight where she was sitting next to Gideon, and Hotch could imagine the way her hands were clenched tightly beneath the table. 

"Tobias Hankel, or one of his personalities, is using drugs and physical abuse to either brainwash Reid or force him into a psychotic break. He has likely become fixated on Reid for whatever reason. It's the only reason that a highly delusional individual would change his signature." Hotch took a deep breath. "Basically, Hankel is attempting to facilitate a shared psychosis."

"There's no sign that Agent Reid has participated in the killings, which is good." Rossi jumped in, recognizing that Hotch needed a break. "But the longer these two are alone together, the more Hankel is going to expect from him, and the less likely Agent Reid will be to resist." 

"This is why Reid hasn't been able to leave us messages. Why Hankel trusted him to be at the crime scene, and to wait at the café. That's why it's important that we find them quickly." Gideon said his piece. He knew that news like this could tear the team apart, and he needed to pull them together. "Shared psychosis is something we've seen before, this time is no different."

There were several moments of dreadful silence as the rest of the team processed this new information.

"Garcia, play the video. Please." Hotch's tone was unusually gentle. She nodded, unable to speak, and pressed play. Everyone watched it with him, looking at it with new eyes. No one said anything until the video ended, though Rossi was taking notes in his notebook.

"I've got an idea." Hotch spoke first, and everyone turned towards him. "What do we do when we have a team? We try to isolate the weakest link. Reid is that link. If we can get a message to him, there's a chance that we can remind him that we're here, and that he's not alone. If we plant that thought in his head, that could lead to everything unraveling."

"But we don't know where they are." Morgan didn't hesitate to poke a hole into Hotch's plan. If only because he wanted to make sure it was airtight. "How are we supposed to get a message to him?"

Instead of looking at Morgan, Hotch turned to JJ. "We're going to deliver the profile."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very, very excited for the next chapter, which has some nice twists and action in it! Another bit of new business... if anyone has an interest in discussing Criminal Minds with me, I am offering up my Discord. I will not give spoilers for the story, so don't try haha! But my Discord is DeepseaSebastian, code is #9297, and I'd love to chat with some of you!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know there were no Reid scenes in the last chapter. Don't worry- I believe I've more than made up for it with this one. Some descriptions of violence, vaguely implied animal abuse that will also carry over into chapter 7. Enjoy!

**May 6th- 1:21 AM**

Spencer let his limbs give out as soon as he was within reach of the bed. Raphael had insisted on injecting him as soon as they were away from the sinner's property, and it had made the trip back to the motel difficult. Or easier, depending on how he looked at it. 

Spencer couldn't remember the trip back. He just remembered Raphael's voice.  _ "Follow me. Don't look back."  _ Then, they'd been standing on a street corner. The wind had picked up, and he remembered watching Raphael's coat flap in the breeze. Then they were back behind closed doors, and Spencer was laying on the bed. That was good, that he didn't have to remember. But… he also  _ wanted _ to remember. Spencer wanted to tell Tobias about this night, about the coffee and the stars and the people he'd seen. 

A hand ran through his hair, and Spencer smiled. "Hi." His eyes had closed at some point, and it took a while for them to open again. But it was worth it, because Tobias' small smile was fixed somewhere above him. 

"Hi," Tobias greeted. "Are you hungry? I brought-" He glanced down at whatever was in his hands. "I think it might be chicken." Spencer must have fallen asleep, because Tobias was now holding a fast food bag. His eyes were having trouble focusing on the logo enough to identify it, and eventually Spencer stopped trying.

"Can you sit up?" Spencer let the question sit between his ears for a moment before remembering he was supposed to answer. 

"Help?" Tobias nodded, and Spencer felt hands pushing on his shoulders, leveraging him up into a sitting position. At some point his hands figured out how to work again and he pulled himself up the rest of the way. Once the room stopped spinning he looked to Tobias, who reached into the bag and pulled out a wrapped sandwich. 

Spencer took it gratefully, and he waited for Tobias to pray before opening the wrapper. It was chicken, and Spencer's appetite came back in full once he saw it. He didn't remember the last time he'd actually eaten, except for the- 

"Oh! I got you something!" He jerked to look at Tobias, who had already eaten half of his sandwich.

"You did? What?" 

"Its, uh.. Coffee." Spencer pointed to the paper cup sitting on the table. "I tried it, when we went out today. I thought you'd want some." He pushed his hair out of his face. "I know that you've probably had it before, but I'm pretty sure it was my first time." Being born again meant that the person he had been before Raphael- that wasn't him. That was another Spencer Reid, one that had died in a cabin in Georgia. And the person he was now got to do good things with his life, and have new experiences. Like drinking coffee.

Tobias set his sandwich down and stood to grab the cup from the table. He took a drink but almost immediately pulled the cup away and made a face. "Coffee's usually hot."

"It was hot when I got it." Spencer couldn't help but sound defensive.

"Well, thank you anyways, Spencer. I appreciate you thinking of me." He sat back down on the bed, coffee placed carefully back on the table. Spencer smiled at him, and they fell into a comfortable silence for the rest of the meal.

* * *

**May 6th- 10:15 AM**

"Hotch." JJ had just come back into the conference room after spending almost an hour on the phone with local news channels and radio stations. Hotch was alone- everyone else had gone to get food and catch a few hours of sleep at the hotel.

She didn't enter all the way, instead hovering against the doorframe, cell phone clutched in her hands. 

"JJ." He greeted. "You set the press conference for 5 PM, correct?" 

"Yeah." She nodded, but still didn't move further into the room. Hotch frowned and finally looked up at her.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. It's just.." She sighed and finally entered. "I don't think I can do this. I can't go up there and just  _ talk _ about Spence like he's.. Like he's just another victim. I can't do it."

"Hey," Hotch moved around the table to place his hand on her shoulder, providing a grounding touch that he knew she needed. "JJ, it has to be you to do this. You two have always been close, and you were the last person to see him-"

"Yeah." She interrupted him and he allowed it, because she wasn't coming to him as a member of the team right now, she was coming to him as his friend. "I was the last person to see him. If we hadn't split up, if I hadn't've gone into that barn, we wouldn't be here right now.  _ Reid  _ wouldn't be here right now. I failed him." Her voice was a near whisper- she didn't want any of the locals to hear what she had to say. "None of you will say it but I know what you're thinking. And I can't do that again. I can't go out there knowing that I could be putting Spence's life at risk again, that if I say something wrong, or the profile's wrong, then Hankel could kill him. And it would be my fault." She ducked her head, and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to maintain her calm and take a deep breath.

"We can't think about what happened in the past. What matters are the decisions we make moving forward. Did you kidnap Reid?"

She shook her head. "No, but-"

"No buts. The only person to blame here is the unsub. Tobias Hankel is the one doing this, and your job is to stop him. You can't do that if you're blaming yourself, understand?" 

"Understand." She sighed and wiped at her eyes. "You know, like a month ago Garcia came over to my house? And she said that it wasn't a good idea for us to be alone. But all I could think about was that Reid was alone. He's been alone this whole time."

"He's not alone. As long as we're still looking for him he won't be alone." Hotch didn't know if his words really meant anything, or if they were even true, but he knew JJ just needed to hear something comforting. She'd been holding onto this feeling for months, apparently, and he was upset at himself for not noticing it. 

"Okay." She nodded, finally, and laid her hand on top of his. He could tell she was still bothered, but she was much calmer than she had been just a few hours ago. Hotch suspected that she wouldn't be happy until they had Reid back safe and sound. None of them would.

Soon after their talk, the others came back with dinner and coffee. By the time JJ had eaten and taken some time to redo her makeup in the station bathroom, it was time for the announcement.

"I have distributed pictures of two men to everyone here." She began. News stations would be putting the pictures on screens, she knew that even though she hadn't specifically instructed them to do so. "They are connected to three murders here in Oklahoma, as well as several other murders in Atlanta, Georgia. The perpetrator of these crimes is Tobias Hankel, who the FBI has been tracking for quite some time. The other man is Dr. Spencer Reid, an FBI agent who is being held hostage by Hankel. We urge anyone who might know have seen these men to contact our office or their local precinct." She took a deep breath to steady herself. "It is important that if you do see one or both of these men that you do not try to engage or restrain them in any way, as your life may be at risk if you try to do so."

"Agent Jareau!" A reporter near the front raised his hand. "How exactly does an FBI agent get abducted?" 

"I can not discuss the details of the investigation, other than to stress that the public do not put themselves in harm's way."

"So you're saying that if they see Agent Reid on the street, they shouldn't approach him? That doesn't make sense." Another reporter asked. 

"Agent Reid is a hostage. If you see him, there is a chance that the suspect is somewhere nearby. That's why it is imperative that you call the police right away." 

And now for the hard part. She waved away the other reporter's hands, glancing back at her friends who were lined up behind the podium, intentionally in view of the cameras. "I would like to speak directly to the suspect right now, if he is watching this." Another deep breath, hidden as a pause for effect. "Spencer has a family that is waiting for him to come home. He has a mother who misses him every day, and we want very much to bring him back to her. Thank you all for your time, there will be no more questions." She moved quickly off the stage, and one by one the others followed.

Rossi was waiting in the building's lobby, looking at the reporters with unease. "Remind me again why you didn't want me up there?"

When JJ spoke, she sounded a lot calmer than she felt. "Hankel is already familiar with the members of our team. We can't take the risk of spooking him or adding unnecessary variables."

"Nice to know I'm just a variable." He commented, but there was no bite in it, and when he turned to look at her his eyes were kind. "You did good. I know it was hard."

"This job is always hard." 

"What now?" The rest of the team joined them, and Garcia slipped her hand into JJ's. 

"Now we have to wait." Gideon shrugged, and his fingers tapped a repetitive pattern onto his jeans. "Nice job with the mother bit, by the way. If Tobias was watching, that will really hit close to home." Not just for Tobias, either. If Reid was watching, then they might have just reminded him what he was fighting for.

"Let's all get some rest. We can each take shifts keeping an eye on the phones, the rest of you go back to the hotel." 

* * *

**May 6th- 9:22 PM**

"You're saying that you had a dream that the suspect was going to come to your house?" Morgan resisted the urge to sigh into the phone. "Ma'am, how about you call back when he actually shows up?" He hung the phone up as soon as she started yelling.

They received dozens of calls, most of which were bogus, and others were sightings that they already knew about. Wherever Hankel was, he was hiding out. The press conference seemed like it had just happened, but the darkness out the window proved that time had passed. 

Gideon had just come to relieve Morgan when the phone rang. Morgan made a 'go on' gesture and walked away to grab a cup of coffee. Gideon barely restrained his frustration when he answered, already feeling a stress headache coming on. "This is Agent Gideon." He watched as Morgan walked towards the kitchen area.

"Hi. Uh… I work at the Sleep Easy motel on 10th street."

Gideon frowned and sat up, leaning on the desk. "Yeah. I was there earlier today. Are you Rick?" The manager they'd spoken with had been calm and uninterested, but now he sounded nervous.

"Yeah. I'm Rick. Uh, well… I didn't really say anything last time, but I saw on the tv that those guys murdered a bunch of people?"

Morgan was just coming back, and Gideon gestured to him to put on the headphones that would allow a third person to listen to the call. "Yes. Are they there now?"

"I think so. They rented a room a couple days ago." Morgan stood and pulled out his phone, moving a few feet away to call Hotch. 

"I've got agents on their way to you right now. But I need you to stay on the phone, and I need you to tell me everything. The truth this time, Rick."

"Yeah, I can. If I had known that they were dangerous then I would've-" There was a sound on the other end, like a bell. "Oh shit. Uh.. I've got to go." The line went dead and Gideon dropped the phone, running to catch up with Morgan in the parking lot. 

"Have Hotch meet us at the motel- Hankel is there right now."

  
  


They were too late. Gideon hated this part, the rushing to help a victim and arriving to find nothing but a body. The good news, if you could call it that, was that the victim wasn't Reid. This time.

"He didn't call 911." Morgan commented as he stepped out of the office and back into the parking lot. "Didn't leave a Bible verse either. Prentiss is checking out the rooms to see which one they were staying in."

"I'll go help her." Gideon decided before quickly walking away. 

"Any sign that Reid was involved?" Rossi asked after a moment of watching Gideon. 

Morgan shook his head. "We'll know for sure once the coroner cleans the body up, but the cuts look consistent with what we've seen before. If Reid was there, he was probably recording. Garcia's keeping an eye on the website."

"Aaron went back to the station. He was needed there." That's all Rossi says, but Morgan already knows what he means. There was a good chance that JJ was going to spiral from this. They needed to find Hankel soon, for her and for Reid.

Prentiss shouted from the entrance to one of the rooms, and Morgan turned to see her waving at them from the door.

"All in all it looks like a normal room. There's nothing here that points to a struggle or any other kind of violence. Barely any signs that someone was even in the room." Prentiss started. 

"Except for this." Gideon finished, holding up a yellowed piece of paper in his gloved hand. "You shall not give false testimony against your neighbor." He recited the highlighted section. 

"He must've been listening to your conversation." Rossi noted. "But this isn't false testimony, he actually killed those people."

"Someone like him doesn't care about the truth. Rick ratted him out, so Hankel had to take revenge. This is his attempt to justify it."

"That also explains why there was no 911 call." Morgan spoke up, gaze focused on a coffee cup sitting on the table. The only other sign that someone had been staying here. "Rick made it for him."

"Look at this." Prentiss was bent down behind the desk, following the room's phone wire. There was another wire connected to it that disappeared into the wall. "He spliced these wires together. That's how he was able to listen in."

"Yeah." Morgan turned away from the table and walked over. "A lot of older places like this cut corners with the wiring. You could probably listen to every room's phone calls if you knew what you were doing." 

"We need to go back to every motel or hotel in the area." Gideon decided.

"And put up roadblocks. There's a chance that they'll run again."

"I'm not sure about that." Prentiss looked over at Rossi, not worried in the slightest about disagreeing with him. "I mean, there's a chance. But when we were in Atlanta, Raphael tried to make Reid choose one of us to kill. He knows that we're here. This could be his endgame."

"She's right. I'm going to call Hotch. Prentiss and Morgan, get Garcia to give you a list of every hotel in the city. We need to check them all." They left, and Gideon turned to Rossi. "I think it's your turn to man the phones."

"I wish I'd never answered  _ mine _ ." Rossi grumbled, which made Gideon laugh.

* * *

**TIMESTAMP: UNKNOWN**

_ There was blood, all over, and Spencer couldn't figure out where it was coming from. On his hands, his neck and abdomen and even his shoes were soaked. Everything hurt- a deep seated pain that threatened to swallow him up and never let him go. Every time he moved, even a little, it made his already unfocused vision go white. It seemed to take forever to turn his head, to look around for somebody to help him. He wasn't in the motel, he was.. Somewhere else. He tried to call out for Tobias, but choked instead. Spencer let his head fall back against whatever was behind him, and his gaze dropped to the floor. There was something small in his hand, and Spencer stared at it for a moment before realizing it was a phone. Someone had given it to him.. Or had he taken it? He remembered a fight, and being scared. Running and then.. This. Being here.  _

_ He had to call somebody. It took all his strength to open the phone, and he had to rest. He closed his eyes again, for what felt like a second but what was probably a lot longer. When he opened them again the screen had gone dark, and he had to press a button to make it light up. A phone number was stamped behind his eyes, and he pulled the phone closer to his face to see the buttons. He couldn't feel his fingers, but the phone beeped with every button pressed. Then, it began to ring. _

* * *

**May 6th- 11:08 PM**

Rossi was lucky- people had stopped calling. So his phone shift was essentially just a chance to relax while the others were out and about. Prentiss and Morgan were still searching motels, and JJ had gone to help. Hotch was reviewing the evidence, and Gideon was reviewing the new video Garcia had found- the security camera from the motel. Reid wasn't in it at all, which was good and bad. Bad because it meant they had no idea where he was. Good, because the only way he'd likely recover from this was if they got him out before he was forced to hurt anyone. Rossi did not want to think about what the kid might be going through, but he could imagine. They'd seen similar cases before, and the outcome was always different. If the victim survived, they could either go about their lives like nothing had happened, or they were changed irrevocably. And Reid didn't exactly look like the type of kid to remain intact after this. Hell, they might save him, only for Reid to turn around and kill a bunch of people himself. 

He was distracted from mentally outlining a new book when the phone rang. He kicked his feet off of the desk and leaned forward to snatch it off the hook. "This is Agent Rossi." The machine on the desk next to him buzzed as it began to trace the call- a precaution they were doing with every single call that came through, just in case Hotch's theory was right. Even though it was looking more and more like he was wrong. If Hankel wanted to call, he'd have called by now.

There was no sound from the phone, and Rossi rolled his eyes. A prank call. "Wasting a federal agent's time gets you 15 years in a maximum security prison, at  _ least _ ." He snapped, and was about to hang up when he heard a noise. What sounded like a groan, and a cough. He frowned, eyes closing just a little in an attempt to focus all of his attention on what was coming through his ears. "Is someone there?"

"I- I need to speak to.. Someone." Rossi could feel his stomach drop. This was the kid! His voice was weak and slurred, but it was him. He swore at himself for ever second guessing Aaron and waved his arm to the conference room, where Hotch and Gideon were still sitting. 

"Reid, is that you? Are you hurt? Tell me where you are." The words just sort of spilled out, and Rossi felt the smallest, tiniest bit of hope. 

"I can't remember who… Jennifer. Agent Jennifer Jareau. Is she there? I need to speak to her." Reid went from dazed to lucid in just a few seconds, which wasn't a good sign. Hotch and Gideon came out of the conference room, and Rossi waved them over. 

"It's the kid- Reid! He's asking for JJ." Hotch's eyes widened, just a little, and he picked up one of the connecting lines. 

"Reid. It's Hotch- where are you?" He forgot himself for a moment, forgot that Reid might not even know who he was. If he knew JJ then he had to know the others, right?

"I dunno." Rossi could hear the way his voice was fading. "It hurts…" 

A light on the machine turned green, and Gideon grabbed the slip of paper that printed out. That paper had his location, and Gideon was already moving to the door. "Reid- Spencer, don't worry. We're on our way, okay? Just stay on the line. We're going to come get you."

"Hotch-" A sob echoed through the line, and Hotch's restless energy stilled all at once. "I think I really screwed up." And then the line went dead. Rossi watched as Hotch slammed the phone into the receiver.

They were ready in record time, and split up into two SUVs. Prentiss, JJ, and Morgan in one, driving to meet them at the address; Gideon, Hotch, and Rossi in the other. It had been a dizzying affair, and Rossi was glad to have a moment to breathe before things presumably went to shit. Especially because there were a few things that he couldn't get out of his head. 

"Aaron," He began. "Doesn't your entire team call Agent Jareau by her nickname?"

"Yes. Why?" Hotch was driving, but he glanced back at Rossi through the rearview window.

"He called her Jennifer. And he didn't use your name until after you had already said it."

"What are you saying?" Hotch's voice was tense, and Rossi took it as a cue to back off. 

"I'm just saying.. We should be careful. There's no way to know what we're walking into."

"He's right." Gideon pointed out. "There's no reason for Hankel to abandon Reid now."

"I know." Hotch admitted, and pressed a few buttons to call the other car, as well as Garcia, who was safe at the field office. "Garcia, do you have building plans yet?"

"Yes, sir. Sent them to everyone's emails. It's an abandoned warehouse, surrounded by a bunch of other abandoned warehouses. Seems like a pretty open floor plan, except for an upstairs office and storage area."

"Alright. Rossi, Gideon and I will take the front, the rest of you head around the back and up the stairs. Don't forget that Hankel has a gun, and Reid is somewhere inside. We need to be careful."

There were sounds of agreement from the other car, and Garcia wished them good luck before Aaron hung up, plunging the car into silence once again. 

"Still know how to use a gun, Rossi?" Gideon asks. 

"Probably better than you." Rossi answers, ignoring the tightness in his chest.

It's dark in this part of town- any denizens of the warehouse district have likely disappeared at the sight and sound of police sirens, and most of the external lights nearby are in disrepair. 

Rossi only had a few seconds to wonder why all the old guys were in a group by themselves. The bulletproof vest was heavy on his shoulders- familiar and foreign all at once. It's muscle memory that puts him on the right side of the door, Gideon on the left. There's no noise inside, and after a quiet moment Aaron pushed the door open. "Entering in the front." He whispers into his radio, and the call is echoed from the others.

The inside is exactly like Garcia described, except at some point someone had installed a wall separating each half of the building. There's some debris and leftover equipment along the walls, and Gideon moved towards them. Hotch is moving to the door at the far end, and Rossi started to follow before his phone vibrated. A quick glance confirmed that it was Garcia. 

"What is it?" He asked impatiently. She wouldn't call if it wasn't an emergency, but this was a really bad time to be on the phone. 

"Hi, uh, sir. Hotch asked me to look into local police reports, and there's something super disturbing."

"Yeah, okay, what is it?"

"A man matching Tobias Hankel's description was seen stealing dogs from an animal shelter, like, two blocks from where you are right now."

"Oh." The information didn't register for half a second, and then Rossi's blood went cold. He'd seen the videos from Atlanta. "I have to go." He didn't give her time to answer before hanging up. 

"David!" Hotch's voice came from somewhere in the dark, echoing harshly against their metal surroundings. Rossi turned to find the source. 

Hotch and Gideon were crouched next to a large metal container; Hotch was staring at him. "We found him!" Rossi moved towards them, and got halfway before an echoing gunshot thundered through the room, filtered through the floor but definitely coming from upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all once again for the kudos and comments, I appreciate them very much! 
> 
> Also a disclaimer: I do not know how electronics and wires work please don't make fun of me if I got it wrong.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're reaching the endgame now! Things are going to be picking up from here, and I just want to say thank you to everyone who's still sticking this out with me! Warning for descriptions of torture, btw!

**May 6th- 11:26 PM**

JJ had been in the field plenty of times, even though her job was technically best done at a desk. She was still an FBI agent, though, and was more than skilled with a gun. Had been skilled with one since she was 10. Though that had been a hunting rifle, not a police-issued pistol.

Morgan walked into the space first- the door was long gone, so they didn't have to worry about breaking it down. He's quick and efficient, but JJ can see the barely restrained nerves and angry energy that have been plaguing him for the past few months. They've all been roughly the same, except for Garcia. In truth, JJ had never actually seen Penelope get angry. Frustrated, stressed, but not truly angry. Not enough to hit or scream like others would. 

Their section of the building is empty, not even a loose pipe or the aforementioned missing door. It's quiet, so much so that the barest hint of a footstep from above causes all three of them to look up. They make eye contact and Prentiss, closest to the stairs, moves first. Morgan moves after her, and JJ follows closely behind. She keeps turning, twisting around to ensure that Hankel hasn't appeared behind them. 

The office area makes up for the cleanliness of downstairs. It's cluttered with heavy shelves, weighed down by machinery and other bits and bobbles. The garage saler in her wants to scrounge around and see what interesting things might be hidden, but she keeps her gun up and her eyes forward. Prentiss goes to the left of the shelves and JJ follows while Morgan moves right. 

There's some light coming in from a window, helpful to see the area they're in but obscuring everything past that point. She squints into the darkness as they advance, making eye contact with Morgan at every new aisle. Prentiss freezes, raising a hand to indicate the pause, and JJ stops barely a foot behind. She strains to listen, and hears the scratch of nails on wood. 

A chill runs down her spine and through her veins, and JJ has to work to keep her breathing steady. After Atlanta.. JJ hadn't been able to be near a dog. Any dog. Even the fucking chihuahua down the block freaked her out, and sent her immediately into a fight-or-flight response. If she wasn't dreaming about Reid then it was about Hankel's dogs.

She was hoping that her ears had deceived her, but the sound came again. Then a growl, low and dangerous. She tightened her grip on the gun. 

There came a new sound, the sharp squeak of rusted metal, and then around the corner came a black shape, low to the ground and teeth flashing against the light from the window-

Prentiss shoots, and it rings in JJs ears as she processes what just happened. There's a yelp across the way as Morgan hits one, but then a cry of pain- from Morgan, then another gunshot, and JJ turns to see a larger shadow run along the far end of the aisles. Morgan's side. She feels her feet moving before she's even decided to run, filled with the sudden realization that she's done it  _ again _ , that this time Morgan will be the victim of her shortcomings…

But he's fine. There's a dead dog a foot away from him, but he's sitting up and awake and putting pressure on his shoulder. There must be blood, but it's too dark to tell and her hand can't move from the gun to grab her flashlight. "JJ, Hankel- he went towards the stairs. I think I got him." 

"I've got him." Her voice comes out sharper than she intended, and she turns once again towards the back of the room, breaking into a run once more at the sound of feet pounding on the stairs. She follows the dark form out of the building, but by the time her gun goes to shoot he's already disappeared into another alley. 

She wants to follow him but knows it would be too dangerous, especially by herself. He could be hidden anywhere down there, and certainly wouldn't hesitate to kill. Distantly, she can hear the sound of an ambulance- and much closer, the sound of Prentiss calling her name. 

Morgan is hurt, bad. He can't stand, having been bitten in the leg, stabbed by Hankel, and also definitely hit his head on a shelf or something. He's still lucid, despite the drugs they gave him, and he manages to shoot JJ a thumbs up before the ambulance hauls him away. There's no sign of the other dogs, and JJ isn't sure if she wants to know what happened to them. It wasn't their fault that Hankel had decided to use them in his plan, but the idea of the dogs hiding somewhere in the dark.. It made her feel jumpy.

There had been a second ambulance, but it was gone by the time they got Morgan downstairs. 

She couldn't see Hotch, so JJ turned to Gideon. "Please tell me we got him." Gideon nodded. 

"Hotch went with him. He's unconscious, but alive. He'll be okay."

"On the phone- Rossi said that he was hurt." 

Gideon shrugged. "He had a broken arm, but other than that seemed fine." There was something he wasn't telling her, but JJ let it go for now. Part of her didn't want to know, although she knew it would come out soon enough.

"Hankel got away. I chased him but decided it wasn't safe enough to pursue." She glanced at Gideon, steeling herself against the expected reprimand.

"That was smart." He said instead. "We can't lose any more agents to this guy."

Something in her shifted at his words, settling against her heart. Something good, and JJ feels herself calm. "We got him back." She reminded him, unable to believe it herself. Gideon nodded, unmoved as always, then turned away to the SUVs.

* * *

**May 6th- 12:12 AM**

The paramedics don't seem overly worried by Reid's state. It's alarming and comforting all at once. He knows that Reid will be fine, they told him so. But he also looked so small, like he hadn't eaten in who-knew-how-long. His hair had grown out too, and it was matted with dried blood along his temple. 

Hotch was frozen in his seat, and he stared at Reid the entire time, taking in every inch of grime and cataloguing the scars and marks that are visible. The paramedics are more focused on Reid's right arm, which is badly broken and swollen around the shoulder. So Hotch is free to stare at Reid's uninjured left hand. It's covered in grime and some oil- the result of sitting in an empty warehouse for several hours. But Hotch can clearly see the raised, pale skin of an old burn on his hand, as well as the brand, comprised of poorly healed scar tissue. It's a cross, and Hotch can only clench his teeth and turn his head towards the doors, using his own force of will to make his blood pressure decrease and his fist loosen where it sits in his lap. He needed to be calm, to be professional. Reid needed him to be professional.

* * *

**May 7th- 1:22 AM**

Gideon had forced them all back to the hotel, even Garcia. They all needed their sleep, especially if they were going to find Hankel. He'd also insisted that nobody go to the hospital, even to visit Morgan. Hotch could take care of things on that end, but only if things were handled here.

He stopped in the hotel bar after spotting Rossi sitting at a table with the usual scotch. His tastes hadn't changed in ten years, and that wasn't surprising.

"I'd thank you, but since I taught you everything you know I'll just thank myself instead." Rossi only laughed at his comment. They both knew that Gideon didn't have enough of an ego to mean what he said. 

"Don't get too relaxed. The hard part is just beginning." They both knew that Rossi wasn't talking about finding Hankel.

"He's strong. He'll pull through." The words felt like ash on his tongue, and Gideon sipped his drink to try to remove the taste.

"You're a bad liar."    
  
"You don't know Reid well enough to judge that."

"No, but you're lying to yourself." Rossi sighed, chuckled to himself, and adjusted his collar. "You'd think after over 30 years, you wouldn't take these things so hard, Jason." It feels like a dig, but Gideon knows it isn't one. Rossi had always concerned himself with others in a way that Gideon refused to. 

In their day, Gideon was the type to believe in sob stories, to make promises that he couldn't keep just to make someone smile. He had a soft heart, and took blows to it with much more severity than Rossi ever would. Jason felt his emotions in the moment, while Dave waited until they were far away before letting himself feel  _ anything _ . Most of the time.

It had been a surprise to everyone who knew them, when Rossi had retired instead. 

They thought it was because of his books, because of the money, but Gideon knew the truth. He knew that Dave was still reeling from the death of his son, and the loss of his marriage, and he used the books as an out to hide from the job that, in his eyes, had taken both of those things away. 

"It's what allows me to do this job." Gideon didn't need to explain himself but he chose to anyway. "Being able to connect with the victims, and with the unsubs, is something that has helped us save lives again and again."

"Your problem is that you keep every loss too close- you don't distance yourself. You don't allow yourself time to just be a normal person, instead of a profiler."

"You're one to talk." Gideon interrupted, if only because he didn't want to hear Rossi's voice anymore. "I had Aaron call you, but that's not the real reason you're back. You're using this as an excuse, because you can't let go of old losses."

"That's different." Rossi finished his drink and stood. He wasn't here to be profiled. "I'll see you tomorrow. Let's hope you're right about the kid."

* * *

**May 7th- 6:34 AM**

His arm hurt. That was the sensation that guided him out of sleep, and Spencer frowned against his pillow. Now that he had acknowledged the pain it got worse, until finally sleep was impossible. He huffed and opened his eyes, wincing at the bright lights. 

He wasn't in their room anymore. It was jarring to wake up somewhere when you'd fallen asleep somewhere else. There was a sudden rush of anxiety as Spencer tried to remember how he'd gotten here. Raphael couldn't have been away for very long, Spencer could still hear his voice bouncing around in his head. And he was heavy, his limbs resisting any efforts to move. Why was he here?

_ He remembered the crunch of bone… his bone. He'd opened his mouth to scream but Raphael had taken his voice again… all that came out was air. The pain came back in full as Charles dropped his arm… Spencer couldn't do anything but let it hit the cement, and this time he must've passed out or something, because he can't feel anything. He can still see, can still hear as Charles comes back around, but the sensation of touch has escaped away to a small corner of his brain.  _

_ It comes back all at once when Charles plunges the knife into Spencer's side. It's all Spencer can do to stay awake, to focus on his breathing and hope that Charles takes pity on him. He almost misses the cell phone that Charles puts into his uninjured hand, and Charles closes Spencer's hand around the phone to make sure that he doesn't drop and lose it in the dark.  _

_ "You know what to say, Spencer. Make the call." It takes all his strength to nod, but he has to acknowledge Raphael somehow. He hadn't heard the angel approach but that's not as relevant as the creeping dread forming around the wound in his gut, and the icy coldness that accompanies it.  _

_ Now he knows for sure that he's passed out, because when he opens his eyes again he's sitting propped up against a wall, and there's blood everywhere. _

Spencer opened his eyes- he could've sworn that he heard footsteps, but the room was empty. He knew where he was now, he knew why. Raphael had set a trap, but he wasn't here. Spencer was in a hospital, and he wouldn't be in a hospital unless Raphael's trap had failed. Tears pricked at his eyes as he considered what that meant.

The pain came in waves, from both his arm and his abdomen. With each beat of his heart it grew stronger, until finally it was enough to drive Spencer mad. His arm was in a cast, and the rest of him was still bogged down by Raphael's drug, but he, slowly but surely, maneuvered so that he was sitting up. The floor and room around him was moving dangerously- shifting left and right and up and down, so he couldn't set his feet on solid ground. 

He waited for the room to slow before touching toes to tile. Spencer briefly wondered where his shoes were, then stood as slowly as he could, both hands clutching the bed to keep himself from falling over.

There was a terrifying minute where Spencer couldn't feel his legs. He looked down, half afraid that they wouldn't be there, and sighed in relief as he saw them. 

He was standing, he could see his feet on the ground. As soon as he saw his legs sensation began to return, and he tapped his fingers against his thighs to push it along as he looked back up at the room.

From this new angle he could see out the window. It was still dark outside, which meant he hadn't been there for very long. Long enough to get a cast, but not long enough for Raphael to come get him. If Raphael was even able to get him. 

Spencer took several slow steps, trying to figure out if angels could die, when the door opened. He didn't notice the arrival at first, too busy focusing on moving his feet forward. "Agent Reid?"

"Agent Reid?" 

He lifted his head and the room began to tilt again, and Spencer did his best to tilt with it. The woman- a doctor, he could tell because she was wearing a doctor's coat and a badge that said M.D.- she was moving towards him much too quickly, and Spencer tried to step backwards. His foot missed the ground, somehow, and he panicked, grabbing at the bed and the blanket before catching himself. 

Her hands were on him, grabbing him, and Spencer tore himself away from her. There was a loud beeping in his ears and he couldn't hear what was being said, so he tried to focus on her lips. 

"-t you need to calm down, okay? You're safe, and your friends are on their way. I'm going to come over and help you back onto the bed. Can I do that?"

She was asking him a question. Spencer knew she wanted an answer but he couldn't- he wasn't allowed and even though she was a human that didn't mean he could trust her- He tensed as she reached into her pocket. "Your arm hurts, I can tell. You're not supposed to be putting weight on it." She scooted closer, moving much slower now, and pulled a syringe out of her pocket. 

Spencer relaxed almost instantly. It wasn't conscious, but he knew what was about to happen. And he knew what would happen if he fought. 

So he turned and, ever so slowly, climbed back up into the bed. She followed, not grabbing him but standing close by in case of trouble. 

"You tore out your IV." She didn't sound upset, so Spencer didn't try to act guilty. He was tired- just those few steps had been exhausting for reasons that he couldn't understand. So he just sat there until she put it back, and watched carefully as she injected the syringe into the port. Then he laid back, bringing his legs up to protect the wound on his abdomen. It hadn't been torn by all his struggling, somehow, and Spencer wanted to keep it that way. 

She didn't try to stop him, just watched. Spencer forced himself to keep his eyes on his knees, questions running through his mind as the drug stretched through his system. He knew now that it was morphine, not the other stuff. But the pain in his arm was slinking away like a kicked dog, so he wouldn't complain. Couldn't, anyway. 

She was talking, but the words didn't make sense so he shut them out. Shut everything out. Because it was obvious now that they had him, and if they had him then what had happened to Tobias? Did they have Tobias too? 

The doctor never touched him, but she did eventually leave, and the room fell into blessed silence. 

* * *

**May 7th- 3:10 PM**

"Agent Prentiss? Hi. I'm Doctor Harris. I'm the doctor assigned to Agent Reid's case, as well as his psychiatrist." She shook Prentiss's hand. "Your boss told me that you'd be coming."

"Yeah. He's busy with the case, and we didn't want to overwhelm Reid, so I was the one that got elected." She nodded to herself. "It's Dr. Reid, by the way." 

The doctor smiled, and wrote a note on the chart in her hands. It must've been Reid's chart. "So.. how is he?" It was better to get this out of the way- and she was eager to see Reid with her own eyes, and maybe take a picture so that the others could know that he was okay too.

"Well, it's better than we expected." She passed the chart over to Prentiss, who did her best to make sense of the big words. A lot of it she could glean from context, but it wasn't like she had a doctorate or read medical books in her spare time. "Physically, any wounds he has have already healed over, except for the broken arm. We did an MRI and there's no lasting damage to his brain, so it was mostly superficial. Some of the older scarring is rough, and I'd like to set Dr. Reid up for some surgery to cut away the excess. It would mostly be precautionary, but there is a chance that internal tissue buildup could lead to complications in the long term, and I'd like to keep the healing process as straightforward and uncomplicated as possible, so that he can focus on the psychological aspects of recovery."

She took the chart back from Prentiss and flipped to the next page. "Some scar removal would be more elective than strictly necessary, but I would still recommend it."

"What do you mean?" 

"There's a… brand. On his hand." She passed a picture of the mark over. It was a cross, centered almost perfectly on top of Reid's hand. The scar tissue was thick and noticeable, and Prentiss immediately understood what Dr. Harris meant about elective surgery. This would always be a reminder of what he went through. Not just to Reid but to everyone around him. If it was Prentiss, she'd do anything to get it removed.

"In terms of psychological damage, it's honestly too soon to tell. He woke up several hours ago, but seems to have slipped into catatonia. It's a common symptom of PTSD." She closed the chart, slipping the picture back inside. "That's why I'm glad you're here. I'm hoping that having one of his friends in the room will help him open up. And you can give me more information on what exactly happened." 

"I have a copy of the profile and necessary case information for you." She passed it over as they walked down the hall, and Prentiss tried to focus on the questions she was going to ask, instead of obsessing over what exactly she was about to see. 

There was a reason Hotch had asked her to come. She was good at keeping calm, which was the most important thing right now. And it was understood that Hotch was needed at the field office.. At least for now. The rest of the team was scouring the city for Hankel. Except for Morgan, who Prentiss had already visited. Garcia had managed to scrounge together a gift basket for Morgan, who was definitely already eating the mixture of fruit, and chocolate, and chocolate-covered fruit, Garcia had considered making one for Reid, but Prentiss had talked her out of it. Until they knew what they were dealing with, it was too soon.

Dr. Harris stopped at a closed room. There was a window, but the curtain was drawn. Harris hesitated at the door, then turned partially back towards Prentiss. "You ready?" 

When Prentiss nodded she knocked, but didn't wait for an answer before opening it and stepping inside. "Dr. Reid? Someone came to see you." There was no answer from the bed, and Prentiss moved around Dr. Harris and stepped further into the room. 

Reid was curled up on the bed, his uninjured arm wrapped around his knees. The bed itself was positioned in that weird 45 degree angle that most hospital beds stayed at, which might've been part of the reason that Reid looked uncomfortable. His head was resting on his knees and angled to look out the window. The one to the left of the bed, which had sunlight streaming through the glass. His eyes were closed, and the whole thing just made him look.. Small. It was a clear defensive position, animal instinct to protect the soft underbelly combined with the trauma response of trying to look as small as possible.

"Reid? How are you feeling?" His fingers tightened around the fabric of his pants- a pair of scrubs that the hospital must have given him. The motion made the cross on his hand stretch awkwardly, and she was perceptive enough to notice the flash of pain across his face. She looked at the doctor, then moved to sit in a conveniently placed chair on the left side of the bed. 

"I know that you're probably scared right now," She kept her voice calm and quiet. "But you're in a safe place, and we're not going to hurt you. Okay? We want to make you feel comfortable." She pulled a small notebook out of her pocket, and a pen. "Dr. Harris says that you aren't comfortable talking yet, so I've got this notebook for you. If there's something you want to say, or something that you need us to get for you, you just need to write it down." Prentiss set the book and pen down, but Reid still didn't move, even to look at her.

"Do you know who I am?" No answer, of course. "My name is Emily Prentiss." She wanted him to roll his eyes, to scoff and say,  _ "Don't be stupid, Emily. How could I forget you?" _ But he just sat there, eyes locked on the wall ahead.

She wracked her brain for something more to say. "How about I get you some food? Morgan isn't around to steal your Jello, so you should eat as much of it as you can." She stood, glancing once more towards the doctor. "Try to write something down, okay? I'm going to talk to Dr. Harris, and then get you some Jello."

They exited out into the hallway, and Prentiss waited until the door was closed to start talking. "Agent Hotchner said that you were running a panel of drug tests, did you get anything back from that?"

"Yes. He's definitely got scopolamine in his system- almost ten times the normal amount. And needle tracks along his arms tells me that this was definitely a common occurrence. Based on the amount of visible marks, and the length of time you say he's been held… he was definitely under the influence for most if not all of the duration. Honestly, I'm surprised that he didn't overdose." She was skimming the case file as they walked towards the cafeteria, comfortable enough with the hospital to read and move at the same time. 

"It does also explain why he's not violent. I have no idea what these levels of scopolamine might do to a person's psyche, but he became completely calm when I gave him his last shot of morphine." She stepped out of the way of an orderly holding a tray of medicine. "Your Agent Hotchner asked me to search for dilaudid, but there were no signs of drug use beyond what I already mentioned. If he was given dilaudid, it was a long time ago."

She snapped the case file shut. "The good news is that, because most of his trauma is directly tied to the scopolamine, as soon as he comes down a lot of the.. Belief system that you believe was instilled- a good portion of that will fall away. He'll be more lucid, and hopefully talking again." 

"How long will that take?" They entered the cafeteria, and Dr. Harris jumped the line to grab three containers of green Jello, a bottle of water, and a container of fruit. 

"A day, maybe even three. It's like…" She frowned, tapping her fingers against the case file as she thought. "Building a house on sand. Once the sand shifts and goes away, the house will collapse. Hence the need for repeated injections. Scopolamine is known for leaving the system much quicker than other drugs." She shrugged. "Honestly, I don't…"

"Don't what?"

Dr. Harris seemed to wrestle with herself for a moment. "I don't want what I'm about to say to be taken the wrong way. But… if I was going to do what you say your suspect was trying to, I wouldn't use scopolamine. I don't know what drug  _ would _ be best, but it just ensured that once you guys saved him, and he stopped receiving injections…"

"You're saying he could make a full recovery?" Prentiss spoke before she could catch and contain the note of excitement in her voice. 

"Maybe. I don't know. I've never seen anything like this. The closest I've ever gotten to something like this was when a patient accidentally took too much on a plane ride. Her husband managed to get her to sing 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun' in front of the entire plane." 

Prentiss didn't realize until after they were out of the cafeteria that Dr. Harris had paid for the food. "You didn't have to do that."

She shrugged. "I heard that federal agents don't get paid much."

Reid was asleep when they returned, and the doctor gave him a little more morphine before leaving. Prentiss arranged the food neatly on the little tray table and flipped through the notebook to make sure Reid hadn't written anything before going out into the hallway to call Hotch. She reiterated everything the doctor had said, then went back inside to wait.

* * *

**May 7th- 6:54 PM**

_ Charles is sitting on the edge of the bed, too close to the tv. Spencer hasn't moved but Charles seems to sense he's awake, and with one hand manages to drag Spencer almost completely off the bed. _

_ An attempt to fix this precarious situation ends with Spencer toppling off the bed and onto the floor. He barely manages to right himself before Charles begins to speak. "Look at them, the devils." He glances at Spencer, and jerks his head towards the tv. "These are the ones I told you about. You remember." Spencer doesn't, but he nods anyway. He knows that he wasn't always here with them, that he'd lived amongst sinners before being saved by Raphael. But he doesn't remember much of it. Just his mother and books, really. If he thinks too hard about it, his head starts to hurt.  _

_ Spencer turns towards the tv when he hears the woman say Tobias' name, which seems to enrage Charles. "That stupid boy didn't do this! I did this! Raphael did this!"  _

_ And then the woman says  _ Spencer's _ name, and he's amazed when his picture comes up on the screen. "They know my name?" He feels stupid as soon as he says it. Of course they know his name, he used to work with them. Or people like them.  _

_ "The government keeps tabs on everybody." Charles grumbled, almost to himself. He's become bored with the tv and stands to walk away. _

_ "Spencer has a family that is waiting for him to come home. He has a mother who misses him every day, and we want very much to bring him back to her." _

_ Charles freezes, and turns to look at Spencer in a way that sends chills down his spine. Raphael comes after him, grabbing Spencer by his neck and lifting him almost off the ground before dropping him all at once. "They are here. This is our chance." He's speaking to himself; Spencer focuses on regaining control of his breathing. "Memorize their faces, Spencer. You already know their sins." Spencer looks up just in time to make eye contact. "We'll kill each and every one of them." _

Spencer took a deep breath, feeling like a bucket of ice water had just been dumped on him. He opens his eyes to find his fingernails digging into his brand, tearing at the scarring there. Blood was just beginning to well up and he forced his hand to open and move away, before he accidentally broke the seal. 

The woman was staring at his hand, and Spencer had to resist the urge to hide it under the blanket. It was hard to remember sometimes that this was something to be proud of- that he had been chosen for this. 

He looked around, half expecting Raphael to be there, but of course he was gone. His head dragged itself towards the woman when she spoke into the silence of the room.

It was that woman, with pitch black hair and a look in her eyes that reminded him of Tobias. Sad and happy, all at once. He knew her, had memorized her face from the television screen. She was one of the ones that Raphael was going to kill. Emily Prentiss, she'd said.

"Reid…" She didn't know what to say, Spencer could tell. And he wasn't going to help her out, either. He let his gaze drift over to the notebook, and looked away as soon as he remembered that she was watching. But it was too late, and she scooted closer in her chair. "Is there something you want to say? You can talk to me, you know." She reached forward and Spencer had to focus on her hand as it moved closer, and forced himself not to move away. Who knew what she'd do to him if he made a mistake?

She pushed one of the Jello containers towards him. "You should eat. You look really skinny. Skinnier than usual." Was that supposed to be an insult? Or an attempt to force a reaction out of him?

He turned his head fully to the window, already preparing to shut her out like he had all the others.

"I think I know what the problem is." The chair squeaked as she pulled it closer to the bed. "I know that you feel loyal to him. And I know that right now, in this moment, you can't imagine a life without him. But, Reid- Spencer-" Spencer had to force himself to stay still, even as he heard her stumble over her words. "What he did to you isn't love, okay? It wasn't right. If someone cares about you, they don't hurt you." Spencer felt himself go numb, and felt his face heat with anger. She didn't  _ understand.  _ He opened his mouth to correct her but the words wouldn't- couldn't come, and he slammed his mouth shut in frustration, his jaw clicking against itself.

"Reid, please talk to me. I want to help but I can't until you say something." She doesn't understand that Raphael took his voice and had promised to give it back but now Raphael was  _ gone _ and it was **THEIR** fault! This was **ALL** their fault!

He looked at her, rage in his eyes. He tried to read her mind, and was surprised to find that the woman had closed herself off somehow. It was honestly frightening, and Spencer turned away from her, focusing on the little containers of Jello. He'd last eaten with Tobias, but couldn't remember how long ago that was. And he needed to keep his strength up, because they could be coming for him at any time. He needed to be ready. So he jerked forward, snatching a cup of Jello and pulling it back, tucked against his chest in case she decided that he didn't deserve Jello after all.

She didn't try to take it away, but instead relaxed. A little bit of her wall fell, and Spencer tried to project as much of his rage at her as he could, though he didn't know if she noticed.

His mind had cleared since she'd been there, which was making Spencer antsy. It had been night when he'd first woken up. Then morning, and now it was getting late again. Raphael always preferred to do his work at night, so maybe now he would come?

She left the Jello for him, but ate the fruit. He had only taken a few bites of food, and she watched him each time he had some. It made him antsy, like she was waiting for him to make a mistake so that she could swoop in to punish him. 

The anxiety increased until he couldn't stand the thought of eating anymore, so he put the Jello back down on the table. 

"Reid." She was open again, and Spencer watched as she dragged a hand through her hair. He wanted to correct her, to inform her that it was disrespectful to call someone by anything other than their name. Reid was his  _ last _ name, and his parents went through so much trouble choosing a name that the least he could do was use it. That's what Charles had told him. "Do you.. Do you remember me? Do you know who I am?" She'd already asked him this, at least once. 

It occurred to Spencer that this could be good. If they think he's in the dark about what's going on, then they might be less careful around him. So he shook his head. 

She was silent, and the air in the room grew heavy. It was similar to how things felt when Raphael was mad- so similar that Spencer found himself looking up at the ceiling, expecting a bright light and pain to descend onto him. But instead she spoke again, and Spencer turned once again towards her. "My name is Emily. Prentiss. We work together." She stood suddenly, and Spencer scooted away once more. 

"Try to write down what you remember, okay? Past and present. It'll give you something to do at the very least."

She pretty much fled the room after that, and Spencer stared after her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for any kudos, comments, questions or corrections I appreciate them all! Also- this story is already finished, but if you have anything specific you'd be interested in seeing in this verse, let me know! :D


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some good stuff happens in this chapter! Warning for some flashbacks, and interpersonal conflict. I'm a little worried about what you all will think of the last scene, but I enjoyed writing it all the same. This chapter also bounces around a lot, to different parts of the day happening at different locations.

**May 7th- 3:45 PM**

"I just got off the phone with Prentiss. Reid is awake, but he's still under the influence and not talking. Morgan is doing fine as well. He won't be in the field for a while, but he should be out of the hospital sometime tomorrow." ****

"That's great! Do you think we'll be able to go see them?" Garcia asked the question that they were all thinking.  ****

"As soon as his doctor okays it, and we have Hankel in custody." Hotch put his phone in his pocket.  ****

"I've got a theory." Gideon didn't look up from his file, looking for all the world like he was reading the damn crossword. Only Hotch was likely to notice that it was a put upon image, chosen to hide Gideon's anxiety from the team. What exactly was making him anxious, Hotch couldn't say. He brushed it off as the emotional aspect of the case. ****

"What is it?" JJ had spent the day driving all over Columbia to interview motel employees. Now it was Rossi's turn and she was taking a break, going over local police reports with Garcia. ****

"Do you remember the case we had, four months after Reid went missing? The one in Montana." ****

"Yeah… the partners. Francis Goerhing killed himself before he could be arrested, and his partner assumed his identity. You think Reid would do something like that?" Hotch wasn't sure if Gideon was talking about the killing himself part or the identity part, but neither option sounded appealing.  ****

"No. The video tapes from that case were shot in the same style as these. A submissive partner recording the dominant one. I rewatched the video we got of James Franks' murder. The camera work is nearly identical." Now Gideon looked up. 

"That was because the partner was in love with Goehring." JJ thought it was ironic, that the unsub's name had faded from her memory. "Reid's not gay." ****

The room was quiet for a moment. "It's the most successful way to dominate someone." Gideon said quietly. ****

"You're saying that Reid's in- that he was-" Garcia can't quite put the words together. ****

"It's likely that there wasn't a sexual component. An overly religious background with a focus on the Old Testament wouldn't allow that." Hotch was quick to reassure her. "But emotional dependence can be just as dangerous." He pulled his phone out to call Prentiss, and put it on speaker.

"Prentiss." She answered. ****

"Hey, we think that Hankel and Reid developed a… relationship." Hotch couldn't help the hesitation as he spoke.  ****

"What?!" Her voice rose, but immediately quieted down. "What?" ****

"See if you can use that to get him to open up." ****

"Got it." ****

"Oh! Emily, there's.. Something else." JJ glanced at Hotch, then back to the phone, like Prentiss' face was visible to her. "I just can't stop thinking… remember in Atlanta, when Hankel had Reid choose one of us to kill? I don't think he's content with the work he's been doing. He wants to do something bigger." ****

"He wants to prevent the apocalypse by killing us." Gideon filled in the blanks. "But he can't just walk into a federal building." JJ relaxed a tad as the group seemed to accept her theory. ****

"But Spencer isn't in a federal building." She reminded him.  ****

"I'm going to put increased security around the hospital, Reid, and Morgan, as well as this building. Hankel doesn't have the social skills to talk his way into anywhere, but we can't take chances. As of now there's no going back to the hotel, it's too dangerous. JJ, can you call Agent Rossi and tell him to head to the hospital?" ****

"Of course." JJ wasted no time in grabbing her phone and walking out of the room. Prentiss signed off as well, and Hotch put his phone away. ****

"Garcia, do you still have access to Hankel's website?" ****

"Yes, sir." Garcia seemed shaken, but was holding steady. She was good at that, waiting until the danger had passed to be upset about it. "It's still active, but there have been no new videos or anything." ****

"Do you have administrative access?" He asked, circling the table to face her computer screen.  ****

"Um, yeah. Why?" ****

"We're never going to find him if we're searching random buildings. We need to draw him out. I want to send him a message." ****

"What message?" Instead of answering, Hotch turned to look at Gideon, who nodded.  ****

"I'm on it." ****

"Just get the system ready. Gideon's going to tell you what to write. I still need to get in touch with the local police precinct." ****

"Alright. No problem." ****

Hotch patted her on the shoulder. "It's going to be okay, Garcia. We won't lose him again."

* * *

**May 7th- 7:00 PM** ****

"Woah. No way are you sneaking in here to still some of my goodies, Prentiss. Take Reid's if you're not going to give them to him." Morgan had been feeling a lot calmer since arriving at the hospital. Although whether that was because Reid was finally safe, or because they had given him _something_ for the pain… who could say?

"I don't want your 'goodies', and if I did I'd get Garcia to make me my own basket." She snapped back, dropping onto the chair next to his bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Well. I am currently not in any pain, and the doctors say that I'm going to be just fine. How's our boy genius?" 

"Quiet. He keeps looking like he wants to talk, but then he just doesn't. I don't know how to get him to trust us again."

"Did you try having him write stuff down?"

"Yeah, I gave him a pad of paper but nothing yet."

"He'll come around. That's not all that's bothering you though, is it?" Morgan asked, and Prentiss blew a loose strand of hair out of her face before nodding in agreement. Damn her partner and his profiling skills.

"Hotch called. They think that Hankel's targeting us in an attempt to stop the apocalypse." She managed a laugh. "Just when I think this case can't get any worse. Hotch is increasing security around the hospital, Rossi's on his way to keep an eye on you." Derek rolled his eyes at that. 

"And?"

"And what?"

"Come on, Prentiss. Rossi isn't the only thing making you bite your nails like that." He gestured to her fingers, and Emily lowered her hand back into her lap with a glare. 

"He didn't know who I was. Which was strange, because I could've sworn that he recognized me." 

"Well if we're right, then he was watching the press conference. He would've seen you." 

"I don't know. It felt more significant than that." She slumped back in the seat. "He's definitely hiding something, but that's a given."

"I don't understand how four months can tear down years of trust." Morgan winced as he moved to sit up, and Prentiss leaned forward to help him, but he waved her off.

"Well, the brain has to cope with trauma somehow. It's likely that Reid had to shed some parts of himself to survive what was happening. But those memories aren't gone. With time, I'm sure that we can help him recover them."

"I should go see him." Morgan turned serious and started to move off the bed. Prentiss was faster, though, and blocked him in. 

"Morgan, no. Hotch said no visitors, and your leg is in a brace! You can't go anywhere!"

"I'll get the wheelchair, then. I already told you I'm fine, and if Hotch has a problem with it then he can come up here and yell at me himself." She didn't move, and he rolled his eyes. "Move, Emily! Seriously."

"Fine. Fine. But I won't argue if they decide to restrain you." She did grab a wheelchair from the hallway- if he was going to move around, he might as well take precautions.

"Alright." Morgan patted the worn armrests of the chair. "I'll drive, you just show me where to go." **  
**

Morgan handled the wheelchair with a practiced ease- Prentiss made the easy guess that he'd used one before. Maybe from a former case, one before she came to the BAU, but she refused to think about it any harder than that. Spencer had been the one to tell her, leaning over the partition between their desks, not to use what she had on anyone else on the team. _"No inter-team profiling. I made the mistake when I joined, and Morgan wouldn't talk to me for a week. I figure I'll give you a head start."_

When he'd said that, everything made sense. The teams she'd worked on before hadn't been like this one was. They weren't close, they didn't trust each other. They definitely didn't hang out every night, or show up at each other's houses 'just because'. But going to all the trouble of becoming a profiler and then asking others not to use those same skills against you? It took a lot of trust. More than trust, really… Prentiss couldn't put a name on it, not exactly. The bond that they all shared. Reid would probably know the word for it.

To his credit, Morgan hesitated at the door only long enough for her to catch up. Wheels were definitely faster than feet, especially if you had the immense upper body strength that Morgan seemed to possess.

Reid was finishing the last container of Jello just as they walked in. He froze mid-chew, then swallowed and set the empty container and spoon down. 

"Oh, come on. Didn't save me any? That's just rude." Reid didn't react except to pull his knees back into his chest.

"I told you that Derek was going to try to steal it." She made sure to use Morgan's name, hoping to avoid making either of them uncomfortable. Well, more uncomfortable. 

Reid stared at Morgan. More specifically his leg, and the chair, and the wound on his chest. Prentiss recognized the same look in his eyes from before, when he'd first looked at her. 

"Hey." Morgan either doesn't notice Reid's unease, or he doesn't care. Either way he scoots closer, until his legs are bumping up against the bed. "It's worse than it looks, alright? I'll be out of here in no time. You know that nothing keeps me down for long." There's no reaction on Reid's side of things, but Morgan kept going. He's talking almost too much, and Prentiss was worried that he might start crying.

"I know that things are pretty messed up in that big old brain of yours, so I knew I had to come and remind you what's what." He held up his phone, which he must've brought with him even though Prentiss couldn't recall seeing him grab it. "Prentiss, help me with this chair." He gestured to the chair she'd been sitting in before, and she jumped forward to get it out of the way. 

There's some awkward maneuvering but eventually Derek was parallel to Reid, right up against the bed so they could both look at the phone.

"I'm going to get something to drink, do you guys want anything?" There's something intimate about this, and Prentiss hasn't known either of them long enough to feel comfortable being a part of it.

"A coffee would be great?" Morgan was about to put on his puppy dog eyes, but Reid's sudden movement threw him off his game. The kid had looked up when Prentiss spoke, but at the sound of Morgan's voice snapped his head towards him. The movement was so fast it had to have hurt, and Prentiss winced.

Morgan made eye contact with Reid and smiled. "You want some coffee?"

"I can get that. No problem." She wasn't sure it was doctor-approved, but anything that made Reid open up and begin to trust them again was a good thing. She smiled at Morgan before walking out and towards the cafeteria. 

**  
  
**

"So.. you still like coffee. Some things never change." Morgan laughed as he keyed in his password. "I want to show you some pictures, okay? Tell me if you remember any of it."

Morgan was not sentimental. He wasn't. He was organized. And organizing all of his pictures into different albums based on who was in the picture was an organizational tool. He would not hesitate to tell this to anyone who might think otherwise. It was useful, especially for this moment, because he now had a folder full of pictures that he had either taken of Reid, or that someone had sent to him. Plus some that Reid had sent, and those were the ones that Derek focused on.

The first group of photos were from his third doctorate approval party. None of the team had been there- it was in Las Vegas and they'd had a case- but Reid had sent them all pictures. Most of them are of Reid and his mom.

Morgan went slow, holding each one up for a while before flipping to the next one. He could feel Reid relax, though he still seemed confused, so it came as some surprise when Reid yanked the phone out of his hands. "Hey! Hey!" He was about to demand the phone back when he saw the way Reid was staring at the picture. It's Reid and his mom standing next to each other, posing for a picture. Or, they had been posing. She had turned to put a party hat on his head, and his face was frozen as he laughed.

"Do you remember when that was taken?" Reid shook his head, but didn't stop staring at the picture. He opened his mouth, and Morgan leaned forward to hear. The kid's lips moved, but no sound came out. Morgan was pretty sure he knew what Reid was trying to say.

'Mom.'

"Yeah. That's your mom." Dammit, Morgan could feel himself getting choked up. Reid stared at the picture for a long moment before dropping the phone onto the bed and pulling away once more. Except this time his good hand moved up to cover his eyes. _Oh, pretty boy._

Morgan hesitated before reaching for Reid's wrist. He was very careful not to react to the brand, lest he get too angry and scare Reid. They'd already made a lot of progress, he could tell. Just seeing Reid helped Morgan calm down, knowing that they got him out in time, before Reid tripped over Hankel's too-high expectations. He still felt rage when he thought about what had happened and the fact that Hankel was still out there. It was just a lot easier to stay calm when he was with Reid. Always had been. 

Reid tensed, but didn't pull away. Just stared at Morgan's hand. He had the classic 'confused Reid' facial expression, but Morgan did not laugh this time, like he had so often before. It was strange how relieved he felt, actually seeing Reid and Reid's weird faces, for the first time in so long. Morgan squeezed gently, in an attempt to be comforting, and pulled away. He loved Reid, but that love wasn't enough to make him comfortable with initiating touch. "We're here for you. All of us. I know you don't remember us yet, but you will." 

The door opened and Prentiss slipped in, holding three cups of coffee in a precarious arrangement of limbs and cups. "They didn't have any drink carriers." She explained, setting one of the cups on Reid's little table just in time to stop the third from falling onto the floor. "They also didn't have cream or sugar, so…"

That didn't stop Reid, who took a small sip, winced at the heat, and immediately set it back down. "Yeah, it's hot. Be careful." Prentiss almost sounded motherly, though Morgan would never say that to her face. He knew next to nothing about her family, but already knew that any comment he made would be unappreciated. 

Reid pulled the coffee close, just like he had with the Jello.

"I should go call Hotch." Prentiss left the room once more.

Reid was staring after her, so Morgan gently tapped him on the arm. "Hey. Want to see some more pictures?"

* * *

**May 7th- 10:02 PM**

It's a good picture. Prentiss managed to take it just as Reid was looking up at her, and his cast is in the shot. She sent it out to Hotch right before Dr. Harris came in to scold Morgan for being out of bed. Morgan probably would've complained more, but they'd been trying to keep Reid engaged for several hours and any painkillers in Morgan's system had worn off by now.

So he let Dr. Harris wheel him out, but not before he made sure Reid knew that he'd be back tomorrow. 

That left Prentiss alone with him for the first time since this morning. "I think Hotch is going to come visit tomorrow." She tried to start up a conversation. "He's uh.. Morgan showed you his picture. The one with black hair and a stick up his… butt." She'd been careful not to curse all day, lest it trigger some sort of adverse reaction. 

He didn't respond to that, just laid back against the pillow to watch her. He'd been doing that all day, just focusing on one thing or person and tearing it apart with his eyes. She couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking, if any of his memories had resurfaced. Several times he'd opened his mouth to talk, only for nothing to happen. Prentiss couldn't understand why he wasn't talking if he wanted to so badly. It was trauma, Dr. Harris had said, but that didn't make sense. He _wanted_ to talk.

His lack of speech wasn't the only thing that had changed. Reid was always hesitant to speak up unless he was 100% sure about what he wanted to say, she'd noticed. And sitting here with him, now.. It made Prentiss realize that she'd only known Reid for two months before Atlanta. If that. Everything she thought she knew was really just what his profile had told her. The profile had only come after he'd been abducted- after what happened to Derek in Chicago, she knew that those rules didn't count if one of your own was in danger. 

Prentiss realized that, whatever new Reid came out of this- he would probably be the only Reid she really knew. That made her sad, for some reason.

She was jolted out of her thoughts by a knock on the door. She waited for it to open, but nothing happened. "I'll be right back." She said to Reid before opening the door a little ways, hand resting on her gun.

She relaxed as soon as the door opened- it was only Rossi. "Hey." She smiled at him and stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind herself. 

"I'm here for backup. Aaron called you?"

"Yeah, yeah. He did. You can come in, you know. Meet him." Prentiss could see a uniformed officer at each end of the hallway. She didn't want to know what he'd had to do to secure round the clock surveillance, but she was grateful for it. 

"Eh, no thanks. Kid doesn't need any more strange new people in his life." 

That was definitely a copout. "Well, if you change your mind, we're in here. Did Garcia post it yet?"

"I don't think so. Otherwise things would probably be a lot more crazy." Rossi sighed and looked around the bleak hallway. "I don't know what Hotch is waiting on. The longer we wait, the more likely this guy is to hurt someone else." 

"He can't. Hankel needs proof that his victims are sinners, and he can't get that proof without some sort of monitoring system."

Rossi froze, and lifted a hand up to pause the conversation. "I think I know where he's going to strike next."

"What? Where?" Prentiss tried to keep her voice down, glancing back at Reid's door. 

"No time to explain! Just call Gideon, and tell him to meet me at that coffee shop!" Rossi didn't run, but he did hurry down the hallway and out of Prentiss' sight before she could manage to think of something else to say. 

* * *

**May 7th- 10:35 PM**

By the time Gideon gets there, it's too late. The sun had been going down for a while, and it's already disappeared behind the tall buildings of Columbia's downtown when he steps out of the car. There are two cop cars blocking off the alley, red and blue lights flashing, so he heads that way immediately. Rossi had said the café, but as soon as Prentiss explained the situation Gideon knew what was going on. That was the good thing about David- his and Gideon's brains worked alongside each other. Not the same way, not at all, but close enough that they always reached the same conclusion. 

Some tension went away when he saw a familiar frame leaning against one of the police cruisers. "Rossi, what the hell?" This close, the lights are less obtrusive and more helpful. The uniforms are already setting up spotlights and barricades, but right now Rossi's face is cast over in a dark shadow. "You know we're not supposed to go out alone." 

Rossi doesn't answer, but Gideon isn't about to make him. So instead he turns to the crime scene. It's easy enough to figure out- the uniforms were in the way back, Hankel had either waited there for them to show up for the night, or came soon after. Either way there were three new bodies. 

"I saw him. They weren't out on the corner and I just _knew_. So I ran over here just as he was coming out." It's a rare moment of weakness for Rossi, but one that Gideon is all too familiar with. 

"Let's get you out of here." It had been ten years, but he knew that, as soon as this was over, David would be mortified if Gideon let him humiliate himself like this. 

"Out of here." Dave nods in agreement and manages to push himself off the car and towards the street. 

He doesn't even look both ways to cross, just propels himself off the curb and into the café. Gideon moves slower, analyzing the few people still on the street. Hankel was not a voyeur, but this could've been a trap to lure them out. 

He orders a coffee, a hot chocolate, and one of those round gooey pastries that he can never remember the name of. The coffee and the pastry go to Rossi, who has found a table against the windows looking out onto the street. Onto the crime scene. 

"You should be over there." Rossi doesn't look up at him, but he does pull the coffee cup closer. 

"Eh, I'll let them get set up. I'm sure you told them not to move anything, and I can't do much good if I can't see." They sit in silence for a few minutes, and Gideon can almost pretend that it's 30 years ago, and they're sitting in a gas station bathroom. That had been the first time they'd done this. It hadn't been the last. 

That time, there had been a lot more talking. From Gideon, at least. He'd thought that Rossi was shot, because the damn idiot was covered in blood and not saying a single word… 

They'd figured it out, though. All three of them- Max too. Although Max probably teased too much, too often for either of their tastes. 

This time, they both know what's going on. They know what to do. So Rossi eats the pastry, because his blood sugar has a bad habit of dropping afterwards, and he drinks the coffee. And neither of them discuss the fact that Rossi had watched one of those girls die, which was the one thing that always, without fault, provoked an attack of this nature. 

Gideon wanted to kick himself. He hadn't cared before, why Hankel had left the girls and instead followed Franks home. He could've warned them, should've seen the signs sooner. Should've figured out that Hankel would go to the only place in town he knows is crooked. But he was too focused on finding Reid.

This was his fault. So this was a time for him, as well. To sit for a moment and adjust to the new weight on his shoulders, three new souls that he had failed. He doesn't think he can take anymore.

"They're all set up. I better go before they get too antsy." He stands and takes the empty plate from Rossi's side of the table, hesitating for just a moment before walking away, tossing the plate as he goes. **  
**

There was a page left at the scene, a verse from Revelations confirming what they already knew- Hankel was coming for them now, directly. But a call to Garcia revealed no 911 call made. That proved what Gideon had feared, when they'd finally found Reid. 

Hankel had fully adapted to Reid's presence, to the point that losing him was causing a sudden devolution of the kills. It wasn't unusual for a mission-based killer like this, but it did make finding Hankel an even bigger priority than before. 

There wasn't much to learn about the crime scene that they didn't already know, so Gideon had them take the bodies to the morgue. He did take a few minutes to look them over, confirming that they were the girls he'd spoken to the day before. The cuts were the same, but there were other marks as well. Stab wounds to the faces, which was not part of Hankel's M.O.. Was it possible that Hankel had been there, somewhere on the street? Gideon reviewed his memories of that time, trying to remember every face he'd seen. But none of them had stuck out, and Jason had gone out of his way to look for someone that even resembled Hankel. 

The techs were taking pictures of what remained and Jason skirted around them towards the back of the alley. He was stopped a few feet from where the bodies had been discovered, by a chain link fence that was almost double Gideon's height. There was very little chance that someone could climb that, especially in the dark. Which meant that he came through the front. This part of the street, at this time of night, was near deserted. Gideon already knew that they weren't going to find anyone willing to talk. 

"We could've stopped this." The tech crews had moved closer to the front, leaving Gideon alone at the back. He turned, spotting Rossi standing at the edge of the light, standing next to the dumpster but not so close that his coat brushed up against it. 

"You can't start thinking like that." Gideon stepped away from the fence. "There's only one person to blame here."

"No, there's two people." Rossi shook his head- a rough motion that reminded Gideon like a dog trying to get water off its fur. "Tobias Hankel wasn't the only unsub here, as much as your team might want to believe."

"Rossi, you don't-" Gideon tried to correct him, but Rossi plowed right through him. 

"Yeah, yeah. I 'just don't know Reid'. I'm pretty sure I've heard that from every one of you since I joined this case. But you're all forgetting that this guy's pretty much been brainwashed. He was a member of your team, but he's not anymore." Rossi was getting more and more agitated. 

"You're saying that he's in a relationship with the unsub but none of you are treating him like it. You're babying him, and now three women, that we could have saved, are DEAD!" His voice raised at the last part, too loud, and now Gideon stepped forward. But it was too late.

"Keep beating around the bush all you want- we have a suspect in custody, and I'm going to question him." He shoved past the techs, who glared at Rossi as he passed.

Rossi was right. Dammit, he was right, but he was too angry to be thinking clearly about this. The wrong approach could break Reid, and not only would they lose him, but they'd lose any chance to get information out of him.

There was the squeal of tires as Rossi pulled out of the parking lot, and Gideon jogged to the alley entrance. "Get the rest of this stuff bagged up." He snapped at the closest uniformed officer, before hopping in his own car to give chase.

* * *

**May 7th- 10:41 PM**

Prentiss was waiting for him at the end of the hall, having received a call from Gideon, and Rossi moved to blow right past her. She anticipated it and blocked him. "Rossi, stop."

"Why are you being so gentle with him? There are people dying, and he's the only one who can stop it!" Rossi was yelling, and Prentiss worried that it would echo through the walls and Reid would hear.

"He's not going to react if we attack him, it only proves what Hankel's been drilling into his head-" Morgan had heard, and was wheeling himself towards them.

"You're too close to this, the both of you! But I'm not going to let anymore people get killed!" Rossi shoved past Prentiss and, before either of them could stop him, barged into Reid's room.

He flew into the room, deaf to any dissenting voices as he slammed his fist down on the little table.

Reid was moving even before his fist hit the surface, practically falling over himself to move away, almost falling entirely off the bed. But Rossi grabbed his good wrist and pulled him back forward, forcing Reid to sit up as he dug his phone out of his pocket. Reid was too shocked to try to pull away as Rossi threw his phone down on the table. "There. Look at what your _little friend_ did. He doesn't need you, so why are you protecting him?!" 

Reid was quiet as he looked at the pictures, his usually passive face twisted in confusion for a moment. His mouth opened and closed, and Rossi shook him again. "What is it? Talk!"

"Raphael isn't- isn't- he isn't m-my friend!" Spencer looked shocked as the words left his mouth, and his face became even more pale- if such a thing was possible. 

"Oh right. You like Tobias, don't you? He's your little boyfriend, huh?" Rossi's grip was tight, and now that Reid was talking he wasn't about to let go.

"No-" Spencer started to protest, but Rossi interrupted him with a less than gentle shake.

"How in God's name can you follow him around like a puppy after everything he did to you? Do you _like_ watching him hurt people? Do you wish that he'll give you the chance to do it yourself one of these times?"

"Rossi-" Morgan snapped from the doorway, but was interrupted by-

"NOBODY LIKES THIS!" Reid screamed suddenly, finding the strength to jerk himself free from Rossi's grip. "We don't want to hurt anybody! Even Charles hates it. We do it because Raphael tells us to. We're not monsters!"

"Could've fooled me." Rossi muttered, and Prentiss was by his side in a flash, pulling him away from the bed.

"That's enough." She shoved him towards the door. "Get the _fuck_ out before I cuff you, Rossi." Godfather of the BAU be damned, Prentiss would not let this go any further. And Rossi must have known it, because he squeezed himself past Morgan and out the door. 

The three of them remained frozen like that for some time, until Prentiss forcibly relaxed her shoulders and turned back to Reid, dropping into a crouch to better assess his injuries and make him feel more comfortable. "Are you okay?"

Reid nodded, glancing towards the door, and back down to his blanket. He started to withdraw his knees again. 

"Say it." Morgan wheeled himself in closer. "Say you're okay." He had a look on his face, a mix of disbelief and hope, and Prentiss wondered if hers looked the same way, because Reid nodded.

"I'm okay." And then he smiled, and Prentiss could feel her face break, and she couldn't escape the half-sob, half-laugh that escaped. Because Reid was talking, he was here, and alive, and that was his _voice_. She barely managed to collapse into her chair. 

* * *

**May 7th, 11:08 PM**

Rossi was sitting in the waiting area, fiddling with something on his phone, when Gideon walked up. He'd calmed down, just enough that he wouldn't blow his top off at anyone who tried to talk to him. Of course, underneath the anger was good old-fashioned pride, which Gideon knew would keep Rossi from admitting any fault or blame he may hold. Especially if his scheme worked. 

"You need to keep a clear head." Gideon stared down at him, hands on his hips like any disappointed parent. Rossi had held that position over Gideon too often- it was about time he got some payback. 

"Just because your team doesn't agree with my methods doesn't mean that they were wrong." Rossi jerked his head towards the hallway. Judging by the uniformed officer, that was where Reid was being kept. "He's talking, so.."

"If you want to keep doing this, you need to work with the team. Things aren't how they used to be."

"No one said that I wanted to keep doing this." Rossi still wouldn't look at him. "I've got a damn mansion, and this case by itself will be enough to help me buy another one."

Gideon sat next to Rossi, putting them on the same level and indicating, without words, that Gideon wasn't trying to fight. "You need to learn to work with the team. I've seen you toying with that bracelet."

Rossi huffed, his annoyance fading bit by bit. "And here I thought you were getting bad at your job."

"I was being polite. If you want to solve that case, just ask. They _will_ help you."

"Wow. Ten years, and suddenly you start being polite." Rossi pulled the bracelet out of his pocket, then looked up at Gideon suspiciously. "You're not offering your services?"

Gideon didn't answer, except to look down at the floor and interlock his fingers. In an instant, Rossi wasn't looking at Gideon, lead profiler. He was looking at a defeated man, a too-old, too tired man who had seen too much.

"You don't get to do this." Rossi was surprised at how harsh his voice sounded. "Do you know how selfish that is? You're leaving for some petty payback-"

"Don't try that. You know this isn't about that." Gideon doesn't even have the energy left to snap back at him. He stood, pulling a folded up envelope out of his pocket, and handed it to Rossi. He set his gun and badge on the little table between them, and Rossi could only stare in shock. He'd never, in a million years, thought the night would end like this. "Give that to Spencer.. When he's ready. If he ever is. And when Hotch comes tomorrow, tell him that you knew that a submissive personality was more likely to respond to a dominant one. You knew that you'd get more answers if you played to what he'd come to expect from the people in charge. And you couldn't tell anyone so that their responses would be realistic. He won't kick you off the team, but he'll still be pissed."

Rossi stood, waving the envelope in the air as he gesticulated. "Kid's gonna want to hear it from you. Come and see him. Then you can go." 

Gideon shook his head. "I'll see you later, Dave."

Rossi had a sudden urge to grab Gideon's credentials and throw them at him, but Gideon was gone before the urge could cement itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so I didn't get too into detail about Rossi's thing, because I want everyone to sort of decide for themselves what they think is happening. It isn't brought up again so it isn't that big of a deal, but I am thinking of writing a oneshot based on that scene.
> 
> Thank you all for reading and commenting and giving kudos, they mean so much to me and I love hearing what you guys think!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for flashbacks and discussion of unhealthy relationships, and mild self-harm.

**May 8th- 9:00 AM**

Hotch chose to stay at the hospital. Prentiss hadn't liked the idea of leaving Reid, especially now that he was talking. But she hadn't slept in almost 24 hours, and it was becoming noticeable. So he and JJ took her place- although Hotch had asked JJ to stay with Morgan. She still blamed herself for what happened in Georgia, and having to interview Reid would not help that at all. Rossi had been banned from the hospital as well- at least for the foreseeable future, and was confined to the field office.

"How are you feeling?" Reid seemed more relaxed now that the scopolamine had completely left his system. He had a hard time focusing on one single subject, Prentiss had warned him. Hotch couldn't help but wonder how long it had been since Reid had been as clear minded as he was now.

"Did you know that there are 43 different types of dolphins? But six of those are commonly considered whales despite their genetic connections to the _Delphinidae_ family. The Melon-headed whale, killer whale, pygmy killer whale, false killer whale, the long-finned pilot whale, and the short-finned pilot whale." 

That… wasn't an answer, and Hotch considered saying so. It had been way too long since he'd had to listen to Reid's ranting that he couldn't find it in himself to interrupt. But then he saw Reid take a breath, and jumped in before it was too late. "Reid." His head jumped around to face Hotch, eyes almost too wide. "How is your arm?"

"It's in a cast. Uhm.. it doesn't hurt." He wiggled said arm experimentally for a moment, and shook his head. "Why are you only asking about my arm?"

"What do you mean?" Hotch frowned and shifted in his seat. "That was your only injury."

"No." Reid shook his head, hard enough that his hair made a slight  _ thwap _ against the sides of his face. It was long now, almost past his shoulders. "There was- he stabbed me, here." His good hand went to his abdomen, fingers searching along the fabric of his hospital gown. He frowned, and moved the gown aside just enough to reveal his stomach. There were a few older scars, parallel to Reid's ribs, but nothing recent. "No.." Reid said again. "He stabbed me. There was- there was blood. I-I couldn't move, but I had to call-" Reid dug his hand into his own abdomen and began to scratch at it, like he could peel it away to reveal the actual wound underneath. 

Hotch leapt for the bed, barely hesitating as he sat and dragged Reid's hand away. "Reid, stop it. Don't hurt yourself." It was hard to keep his voice even, and Hotch was glad he'd asked JJ to stay with Morgan. Reid would never be able to look her in the eye again if she saw him like this. Hotch, on the other hand, didn't care if Reid looked at him. 

"Let me go! Let me go!" Reid's voice rose in pitch as well as volume, and he struggled with surprising strength. "Don't touch me!"

He stopped struggling, but Hotch did not loosen his grip. "I will not let you hurt yourself. If this continues they'll have to tie you to the bed. Do you want that?" Reid glared at him, still tense and angry. Hotch matched his stare- he was more than willing to wait as long as it would take.

It did not take long, though, for Reid to lower his gaze, and all the tension seemed to drain out of him. Only then did Hotch let go, and Reid's hand- although it did fall back onto his abdomen- remained relaxed as well. "He stabbed me. I was bleeding. I could feel it- I can  _ still _ feel it."

Hotch scooted away to the edge of the bed. "I'm sorry." 

"I know who you are." Reid's tone was harsh, accusing, and he had drawn his legs up into his chest again. "Proverbs 29:22. ' A man of wrath stirs up strife, and one given to anger causes much transgression.'"

Hotch wasn't.. Entirely sure what to say about that. And he wasn't the kind of man who spoke without knowing what to say, so he didn't speak. Which must've been the right decision, because Reid continued. "Your father was a wrathful man." 

The simple phrase, filled with such vitriol, sent chills down Hotch's spine. "What did you just say?"

"And wrathful fathers bring about wrathful sons. 30% of abused children become abusers themselves. Don't you have a son?"  _ Jesus _ . Reid's voice is lilted, framed to sound both innocent and violent.  _ It sounds,  _ Hotch thinks wildly,  _ like any number of unsub that we've interrogated.  _ And it's not fair, he knows, to think of Reid as an unsub. Not after all he's been through.  _ Gideon had the right idea.  _

It's a fleeting thought, and Hotch pushes it out of his head almost immediately. He wouldn't do that to his team. Couldn't even consider it. "How is it that you know all of this, but you can't even remember my name?" Is what Hotch forces himself to say. He turns away from Reid, keeping his eyes on the white wall only a few feet away. He could practically feel his blood pressure rising- he needed to calm down, to focus. Many of the more observant unsubs had thrown Hotch's childhood back into his face, but having his close friend use that information against him had been a surprise. He needed to get himself under control. 

Luckily, Hotch had been mastering self control since he was a child. So it only took a few deep breaths for him to calm down and prepare for what would no doubt continue to be a stressful conversation.

"You told me. Well-" Reid shook his head again. "No. Kind of. I was given a gift. And that gift told me."

"Who gave you the gift? Raphael?"

An emotion flickered across Reid's face, one that mirrored amusement. The know-it-all smirk of someone who thought they had the upper hand. It was a far cry from the cowering man Hotch had found in that warehouse. "I don't think so. It doesn't matter." Reid hesitates, despite the look on his face. Hotch can feel him shift his weight, readjusting his legs under the blanket. "You're not asking what it is."

"I don't need to. Raphael is using your skills as a profiler to choose his victims. He thinks that you read minds, but really you're just observant. You know how to analyze everything you see."

"No. I was given the gift to read minds, and Raphael found me and taught me how to use it." 

"I haven't given a second thought to my father since I've been in this room with you. I have not thought about my son, either." Hotch stood and turned back towards Reid, who looked much less sure than he had been, just moments before. It almost wavered Hotch's resolve, but he continued. "So you couldn't have figured those things out from reading my mind. And there's nothing in my behavior that would reflect those things about me. Which means the only way you would know about my family was if I told you, which I did. Almost two years ago."

"No. No, you're wrong." Reid's cast limited his range of motion but it didn't stop him from dragging his covered fingers against the brand on his good hand. Hotch recognized it instantly as an anxious tic- a way for Reid to ground himself. Whether he was grounding himself in the present or in his delusions, Hotch couldn't say. 

"Do you know who Vincent Perotta is?" Hotch kept his voice strict, letting Reid know that any wrong response would lead to punishment. A put upon act, of course. Hotch would never, ever lay a hand on his team- but Rossi's use of violence had gained them a foothold into bringing Reid back. And until they found another way to connect with him, this would have to do.

Reid's face twisted with worry, and he closed his eyes as he thought. "He was a hitman. He worked in Maryland, and he killed over a hundred people." 

"How do you know who he is?" Hotch came closer, not making a sound. 

"I-I must've- Raphael-" He started to open his eyes.

"No, Reid! Raphael wasn't there but you were!" Hotch dropped against the bed so that they were eye-to-eye. "He tortured his victims and recorded them because he was a hitman. But his jobs weren't enough for him so he killed on the side, too."

"He worked for the mob…" Reid's eyes were still closed but he dragged his hand through his hair. "And there was someone in danger.."

"Yes, yes. That was the case. Now where were you?"

"I wasn't there."

"Yes, you were! Focus, Reid!" They were so close. So damn close. Hotch had mixed emotions about remembering Perotta's case, but if it helped Reid remember… 

"I was sitting in front of computers… there were rats, and… plumbers?"

Hotch didn't remember any plumbers, but he wasn't going to stop this to correct him. 

_ "How did you know he was abused?"  _ An innocent question from an inquisitive mind.

_ "What?" _

_ "How did you know? I didn't see it in the crime scene- did I miss something?" _

_ "No, it wasn't a part of his profile. I just- I have personal experience. It's something I've seen before." _

_ "Oh. Hotch, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" _

_ "No, Reid. It's fine, you didn't know." _

"You were there." Reid opened his eyes, a mixture of anger and disbelief revealing itself. "I knew you."

"You know me." A gentle correction, but Hotch kept his face stoic. "We work together."

"Oh." Reid didn't seem happy about that, which, weirdly, made Hotch want to laugh. "And Emily Prentiss, and the other one.. Derek. I worked with them?"

"You work with them." Hotch nodded and stood, taking this time to step out of Reid's bubble. "Are you starting to remember?"

"He showed me pictures." That wasn't a real answer but it was good enough.

"There are some people who want to see you. Would you like to do that later? You might remember more."

Reid hesitated, but nodded. "Okay."

* * *

**May 8th- 1:23 PM**

Garcia and JJ were the only ones who hadn't visited Reid. (Except for Rossi and Gideon, but they didn't count for different reasons that Garcia wasn't thinking about right now). Garcia would've been mad, except it gave her time to get a gift basket all wrapped up and ready. And then she and JJ had a little girl talk, because Garcia could tell that JJ was nervous. She wasn't the only one, but helping her friends always helped Penelope feel better. So they had tea and breakfast at the hospital cafeteria (after a restless night of sleeping in a weirdly lumpy cot at the field office), and then they were off to see their friend and make him feel better about having his entire world ripped out from under him. 

Garcia was armed with a sweater, a tablet loaded with Doctor Who episodes, and the terrifying worry that her friend would be unrecognizable and unrecoverable.  **  
  
**

Prentiss had taken JJ's spot with Morgan, and Hotch was barely keeping awake in the waiting area while Rossi worked with hospital administration to evacuate their floor of the hospital. Patrols were still searching for Tobias Hankel but now that they'd sent out their taunt (a picture of Reid with the words 'Columbia Center Hospital, Room 223' in bold font) he was certainly on his way here. He'd committed each attack at night, so if the pattern held then he would be here. At a hospital. With a gun. Tonight. But there was proof he was devolving, so JJ wasn't so certain that the pattern would hold. 

Either way, any patient who could be moved somewhere else was being moved, and the second floor was a buzz of nervous energy. It didn't help JJ's nerves that Garcia had insisted on bringing a gift basket the size of a freaking two year old along with her. By the time they found Hotch hunched over a mostly empty cup of coffee, JJ's nerves were shot and her hand was firmly placed on the butt of her gun. It was comfort more than anything, and she forced herself to relax when Hotch lifted his head to look at them. 

"Late night?" She handed him a fresh cup of coffee. 

"I always forget how difficult guard duty can be." He hesitated to choose the right word. "My circadian rhythm is not so easy to forgive."

"The doctor said you can use their little- they've got a room for doctors to sleep in." Garcia pointed back towards the hallway, adjusting the basket from one arm to the next. 

"No, thank you. I'm fine." He insisted, but JJ shook her head. 

"We can handle it for now. If anything changes we'll come and get you, but it's not even 2 yet, Hotch. If you want to be any help tonight you'll need to get some rest."

"Okay. Yeah. Reid's just down there-" Hotch gestured with his coffee towards the appropriate hallway. "He's doing alright, and he's already eaten. Morgan and Prentiss are three rooms down- he was filling out the discharge paperwork last I checked." Hotch turned his mostly-menacing-but-now-mostly-tired eyes onto JJ. "Right now we're just trying to form connections and help him regain some memories. Don't push him on details of the case or Hankel. If he opens up that's fine, just don't force it. Dr. Harris is going to be coming by around five to talk to him, but other than that you have the whole day."  _ Barring nothing goes wrong _ . He doesn't say it, but he doesn't need to.

"We'll be fine, Hotch. Get some rest." He looked at them both before nodding once more and heading in the direction Garcia had pointed. 

"We should make sure he gets there alright…" Garcia turned to follow but JJ grabbed her arm. 

"No way, he can handle it. And you're not leaving me alone right now." JJ moved towards the hallway, which was already cleared of patients. It was too quiet, and JJ had to steel herself as she went, Garcia right behind.

Reid's door opened as they approached, and a woman stepped out. She smiled at them as the door closed behind her. "You must be Agents Jareau and Garcia."

"I'm more of an analyst," Garcia corrected politely. She didn't like to be thought of as an agent- people expected more from 'agents'- things that Garcia either couldn't or wouldn't do. Like carrying a gun- which she would never, ever, ever ever ever do. She hated guns, which was ironic considering their line of work…

"My apologies, then." The woman interrupted Garcia's thought, which was probably for the best. "I'm Dr. Harris, I've been working with your friend."

"How is he?" It was more of a polite question than anything, considering Garcia didn't really want to know the icky bits, and Hotch had already told them everything else.

"His arm is healing nicely; the cast will have to stay on for at least a month. Though hopefully by that time he'll be back home with you all. I was just checking in on him.. Agent Hotchner said that Dr. Reid expressed some concerns about an abdominal wound, but there's nothing there except some older scars. I only mention it because he'll likely bring it up."

"You're working as his psychologist too, right?"

"I am, yes. With cases like Dr. Reid's, it's better to minimize the number of strangers that he's in contact with."

"Do you get a lot of these kinds of cases?" JJ flicked her hair out of her eyes, genuinely curious now. 

"Oh, no. I have worked on some similar, but nothing to this degree, and not at this hospital." Dr. Harris looked down the hall at the officer stationed at the intersection. "I know you're the experts, but was this really the best way to catch this man? It's quite a lot of upheaval."

JJ found herself frustrated by the question. "Agent Hotchner wouldn't have made this decision without considering other options. The unsub is coming after Agent Reid specifically, so it was important that this operation didn't hinder the investigation or Reid's personal safety and wellbeing." It's the exact clipped, cookie cutter answer that JJ might've given to a member of the press, if the press caught wind about the FBI clearing out an entire section of a hospital. Which they probably would, and JJ had been preparing her remarks for the better half of last night. 

"Well, it's good to know he has friends like you looking out for him." Her eyes lingered on the gift basket, but she said nothing. "If you'll excuse me, I should see you again at five." With that, Dr. Harris ducked around them and disappeared down the corridor.

Which left JJ to stare at Reid's closed door. Only for a moment, because Garcia decided that the best way out was through: She opened the door and stepped inside, leaving it open for JJ to enter behind her.

Spencer flinched as the door burst open, and tried his best to hide it with a smile. Agent Hotchner had said there would be visitors, but he hadn't prepared him for… this. The first woman through the door set a large basket onto his little tray table, unintentionally blocking his view of the woman who came through next. He had to shift to look, and watched as she hesitated at the door. He recognized her instantly. She had been the one on tv, the one who he'd tried to call. She knew about his mom. Spencer felt a flurry of emotions upon seeing her, ones that he was only able to identify properly as.. Relief? Apprehension? And the train of emotion ended with an all consuming devastation. It was like getting stabbed all over again, and Spencer had to tear his gaze away from her in an attempt to stop it. 

"Oh, you don't like it." The first woman had apparently been speaking the entire time, and had gone quiet as soon as Spencer dropped his gaze. "Dang it, Penelope, why do you always go overboard?"

It took him a moment to realize she was talking about the basket. His apprehension was replaced by panic- this was a gift and if he didn't properly appreciate the gift then… "No! I like it. I just... " He hesitated, fiddling with the hem of the blanket. "What exactly- what is it?"

Just like that her negative emotions swung back towards the lighter spectrum. And though her mood swings left Spencer feeling dizzy, there was an openness to her that the others didn't have. Even the doctors were withdrawn, constantly hiding what they were thinking. But there was nothing hidden about this woman, nothing at all. It was refreshing. 

"It's a gift basket! They said that I probably shouldn't- and they were probably right- but if you like it then no harm, no foul! There's some candy and stuff in here, but I weighed the bottom down with this book I found at the store. I don't know if you've read it yet but I thought it looked super cool so I actually got two copies, and that way we can read it together! Plus, of course, some stuffed animals, because I'm not a monster and they looked  _ so sad _ sitting on the shelf…" 

"Alright Garcia. He gets the idea." The second woman was still standing at the door, but she came further into the room the more Garcia continued to talk. Spencer noted that she left the door open, where the others had all closed it. "It's good to see you, Spence."

"You're the one from the news. Jennifer Jareau. I tried to call.." That was one memory that hadn't left him, though bits and pieces had left and come back. He shook his head, not to disagree with what someone was saying, but to keep himself focused on what was happening. He didn't want to get lost, not now. It was too violent of a movement, and Spencer raised his hand to stop the sudden bout of nausea. 

"We got the call." She moved to his side in just a few steps, despite her short legs and anxious demeanor. "It's okay. I'm sorry that I wasn't the one who answered, but it's okay. We got the call and you're safe now. That's all that matters." She was encroaching on his space, but not reaching out to touch him. "And.. you can call me JJ, if you want. My friends call me JJ." 

That almost made him laugh, but Spencer knew enough to keep himself quiet. She was sending conflicting messages- standing too far away, then too close, but still keeping herself closed off. Which, in this context… Did she feel guilty about something? Spencer hoped so. He pitied each of these people, for their sins and their lack of understanding, but this woman? The idea of her made rage curl around Spencer's heart, thick enough to choke on. She was the reason for everything,  _ everything _ ! Spencer hadn't realized- hadn't remembered until Agent Hotchner had shown him that memory. 

He still wasn't sure if he believed- not entirely anyway. But it felt like there was a weight off his mind now, one that he hadn't realized was there. Raphael's voice was so much quieter now. And Spencer remembered a corn field, and gunshots- his friend was supposed to come but she hadn't, she'd abandoned him, and he suffered  _ because of her _ .

That was Raphael talking to him, and Spencer didn't voice any of these thoughts- instead he lifted his head, looked the devil in the eyes, and smiled. "Hi, JJ."

* * *

**May 8th- 5:06 PM**

Morgan was really, truly, ready to go home. He hated being idle, and rolling around a hospital in a wheelchair had only been fun for like, six hours. Plus the nurses had heavily implied that if he kept wandering off they'd tie him to the bed. And as much fun as that sounded on any other day, Morgan refused to be tied up when there was a killer actively trying to hurt him or someone he cared about. 

And all that hard work paid off, because he didn't have to use a wheelchair  _ and _ they were discharging him. Hotch had already implied that he was sending Morgan back to the field office, but they both knew that wasn't happening. There were still stitches holding his shoulder together but his trigger finger was just fine. And Morgan wouldn't hesitate to chase Hankel down in a damn wheelchair if he had to, as long as they caught the bastard. 

"Wow, two days lying in a bed and you're a blob. I don't think any amount of gym time will help you recover from this." Prentiss remarked, a different variant of the same joke she'd been making all morning. 

"Say one more thing and you'll see what these muscles can do." Morgan shot back fully prepared to fight Prentiss if she called him on his bluff. 

"It's been two days and you're already trying to cheat on me?" Came a faux-scandalized reply from the door. "Very naughty." Garcia was posed dramatically against the doorframe. 

"Well, when my one and only doesn't bother to call or visit, I get lonely." Morgan grinned at Garcia as she glared at him. "But you can punish me if you'd like."

"That's my cue." Prentiss stood and made to leave, only to be stopped as Garcia hugged her. 

"I missed you too, don't worry. I've just been busy." Truth be told, there hadn't been much to do but monitor the site. And Hotch had asked her to collect all of Gideon's things from the station- he hadn't come back for anything, but it was just his go bag and a travel chess set. That didn't stop it from being emotionally draining, however. 

Prentiss gave Garcia a little squeeze in return. "How are things?" She doesn't need to elaborate.

"Things are.. Good. JJ's good. I was really worried in the beginning but it's good. I was going to reintroduce him to Doctor Who, but it turns out he remembers all the old episodes, so we watched the ones he's missed. The doctor's in with him now, so here I am."

"And? How are you handling it?" Morgan asked as Prentiss disentangled herself from Garcia and exited.

"I'm fine." She came to the bed and sat, letting him put his arm around her. He gave her a look, but she shook her head. "Really, I'm fine. A little shaky, but it's not bad. I'm just- really, really glad to get to see him. And I'm probably going to cry, but that's just because I'm so happy, okay? These are happy tears."

"I know." He bent a little to kiss the top of her head, then reached for the box of tissues sitting next to the bed. "We're bringing him home. This time, we're bringing him home." Morgan would be lying if he said that he wasn't also tearing up.

"I won't be happy until we're all on the plane." 

"Me either, baby girl."

* * *

**May 8th- 5:02 PM**

"Do you prefer to be called Dr. Reid? I want to make sure that you're completely comfortable here." Dr. Harris asked as she sat next to the bed. She'd spent most of her day checking on her other patients and helping to move them into other sections of the hospital. This really was a lot of work to catch one man, who himself seemed to be in need of some psychiatric help, if what the case file said was true. Only a professional could diagnose something as severe as DID, and Dr. Harris would be lying if she said that, after reading all of this, she didn't want to help him. 

"My name is Spencer." Dr. Reid had been relaxed when she'd first entered the room, but seemed more anxious now that his friends had left. "You can call me Spencer."

"Alright then, Spencer. Is there anything specific you want to talk about? I imagine things have been pretty confusing lately."

He seemed to consider this for a moment. "You could say that." He fiddled with the blanket, rubbing the fabric gently against his thumb and pointer finger. She waited patiently. "Agent Hotchner has made me.. Reevaluate some things." 

"Like what?" Agent Hotchner had informed her that they'd spoken, but it was good to let Spencer talk and hear it from his point of view. 

"I don't know. I just- I thought that- I mean, I knew that I had-" He struggled to find the words, but she was patient. They were lucky that Dr. Reid was talking at all, although she didn't like the way they'd gone about that. "I knew that I worked for the FBI. Before. But apparently I worked with  _ them _ and I didn't know that. And now I can't help but think… did Tobias know? Did Raphael know? Did they keep this from me? Why can't I remember?" He seemed shocked at his own honesty and quickly backpedalled. 

"I-I mean, if Raphael thought it was best to not tell me, then that was the right decision. I have no right to- I'm not  _ demanding _ -" 

"Spencer. Spencer, it's okay. Take a deep breath." She thought about reaching for his hand but decided against it. He had drawn his legs up against his chest again and was staring at her with wide eyes. "This is a safe space, okay? You can say whatever you want, and I won't tell anyone. No one will know- not your friends, not Raphael. You're safe here."

He shook his head. "No, you don't understand. Raphael knows  _ everything _ . Even if you don't tell him, he'll find out." 

"If you're not comfortable talking about something, that's okay. But I promise you, Spencer, that you're safe here. You're safe with your friends, and Raphael will never hurt you again." He didn't seem convinced, so Dr. Harris flipped through the case notes until she found the right page. "Alright. I think I have a way to prove it. It says here that Raphael asked you to choose who he hurt, right?" She very carefully kept her voice even. If she sounded upset, or like she disagreed, then Spencer could stop trusting her. 

"No. I can- or could, or- thought that I could- read minds. So Raphael needed me to find out who was a sinner."

"He couldn't tell for himself?"

"No. Tobias originally used computers to monitor people, but Raphael thought that I would be more efficient. Especially after.. After the cabin."

Note: Ask about the cabin. "So.. Raphael can't read minds. So as long as we don't tell him what you talk about, then he won't know. And I certainly won't be telling him. Will you?"

"I… no. I won't tell him." Reid looked over to the window and back to her, then back to the window again before finally facing forward once more. "I won't."

"Alright then. It's settled. Whatever you say here is confidential, and we won't tell anyone." She nodded once, to emphasize her point. "Now, you were talking about how you couldn't remember anything. Do you want to know why?"

"Yes. Please." Now that Spencer seemed to understand that their session was safe, he was becoming a lot more open. 

"When you were first admitted, we found a drug called scopolamine in your system." 

"Scopolamine is a motion sickness drug. I don't get motion sickness. I haven't since I was seven."

"Well, one of the adverse side effects of scopolamine is that it can, in high doses, make someone more suggestible, as well as causing memory loss." She let that sink in for a moment.

"So you're saying that- so you're saying." Spencer leaned forward, mouth twisting in confusion. "You're saying that he mind-controlled me?" 

"Not really. Not in the way that you're thinking. The drugs really just sped up typical coercion methods. The good news, though, is that because-"

"Because it was so reliant on the scopolamine, the coercion methods won't hold up long term. Yeah, I understand." Spencer thought for a moment, grabbing for the blanket again and chewing his lower lip. "Coercion methods… you mean torture. You think I was tortured?"

"Well, Spencer.. Your arm is broken. There are other recent scars as well. And your hand…" That was a mistake. He jerked his free hand back from the blanket and covered the brand. It was interesting, how there wasn't a single mark on or near Spencer's left arm- other than the brand. His right arm, shoulder, and ribs were covered, but not his left.

"That wasn't torture. This is  _ protection. _ Charles had to do this so that I could be safe! And the other- those were my fault. I deserved those. It wasn't torture, it was discipline." 

"Alright. I understand, I'm sorry. What does it protect you from? It's a cross, right? Can I see it?"

"No." He snapped, mood swinging back to distrustful. "It protects me from demons. I know that sounds ridiculous, but it's true. After what happened in the cabin, I was cleansed of my sins. We just had to make sure that I was protected, in case something tried to tempt me. Like you're trying to do." 

"Spencer, I promised you that you were safe here. I want to help you. I'm not going to tell Raphael, and I'm not working with any demons. I'm only here for you." He didn't react, so she continued onward. "Do you want to tell me what happened at the cabin? You've mentioned it a few times now." 

"I died." The words dropped from his lips, like he knew the meaning behind them but didn't care much about it himself. "Raphael killed me. Tobias saved me. I was reborn, and useful, so they kept me." He smiled, almost to himself, like this was a fond memory. Dr. Harris had dealt with enough trauma victims that she was only mildly phased. 

"And you don't resent Raphael for what he did?" 

"No. Well-" He looked away, towards the wall, but his head didn't move. "I don't resent him for saving me."

"You resent him for something else?"

"He- Tobias saved me. Each time, Tobias saved me. But the others don't care about him like I do. I promised Tobias that I wouldn't leave without him. He did the same. So I-I do resent them, for hurting him. And now I'm here, and Tobias-" Reid had to stop, he was getting too choked up.

"I'm sure he knows that you didn't abandon him." Reid was fully crying now, and hiding his face in his knees. "Hey, Spencer. Spencer." He looked towards her, but didn't lift his head. "You did really good, so I think we're going to stop for now, alright? It's been-" She glanced at her watch and got up out of the chair, coming closer to squeeze his forearm. "Almost two hours. I just need you to do one thing for me, until I see you next. Will you?"

"What is it?" His voice was already rough from the sudden onslaught of crying, but he still sounded suspicious. 

"I know you're worried about him. Your friends are worried about him too, we all are. We want him to be safe from Raphael, just like you. And we need your help." His eyes lit up with renewed interest, and she nodded. "I need you to write down everything you know about Tobias, okay? Everything you know will help us save him." She stood and grabbed the discarded notebook that Agent Prentiss had brought. "Can you do that for me?"

"I have an eidetic memory." He wiped his eyes and sat up again, grabbing the offered pen. 

"Then you should have no trouble. Do you want me to send your friends back in, or do you want some time alone?"

"They'll want to come in." He was entirely focused on the notebook now, already beginning to write.

"Alright then." She smiled at him, even though he wasn't watching, and left.

* * *

**May 8th-10:17 PM**

Reid didn't pick his head up for three hours. He wrote nearly the entire time, pausing occasionally to reread what he'd written or to remember something else. 

After 15 minutes of this, Garcia had turned to her tablet, plugging headphones in to watch Doctor Who. JJ, however, couldn't tear her eyes away from Reid as he scribbled furiously across the page. 

The cast restricted his movements so much that he was forced to use his left hand, which JJ knew upset him. He'd always complained that his brain moved too fast for his hands to keep up, which was why his handwriting was so messy. JJ could only imagine how frustrating it was to now deal with that- plus he couldn't even use his dominant hand. 

She tried to get him to talk each time the pen paused. One time he even made to set it down, only to push back to the paper and keep going. 

By the time he set the pen down for good, it was well past sunset and the entire notebook was filled. Hotch had stopped in to check on them- and he seemed much more awake than he had been before, which was good. He didn't stay long, just dropped off a bag of food and reminded JJ to stay on guard. Like she needed the reminder. 

JJ and Garcia had eaten, but Reid's food was untouched and likely cold by the time he finally lifted his head, saw the bag, and reached for it. He unwrapped the sandwich and stared at it for a moment before taking a bite. 

"It's just chicken, don't worry. I had the same thing." Garcia assured him, pulling off her headphones. 

"How.. How did it go with Dr. Harris?" JJ forced herself to ask, even though she really wanted to know what Reid had been writing. Neither of them had missed the tears tracing themselves down Reid's cheeks, which were now dry.

"Fine. She talked to me like I was a child. We're the same age." He sounded like his old bitter self, and JJ laughed. 

He tossed the notebook at JJ, and she startled as it landed in her lap. "That's for her. She asked me to write it."

JJ wondered what, exactly, Dr. Harris had done to get Reid writing- Prentiss had been trying for days. "May I?" She flipped to the first page and he shrugged, disinterested as he turned back to his sandwich. 

At first glance? A list. She could see the '1' printed clearly, then a few inches down the page, a '2'. There was a '3' as well, down at the bottom. JJ could only assume that it kept going, and turned her attention to the actual words. 

  1. Tobias Hankel is 27. He was born May 1977. His father didn't celebrate his birthday once Tobias' mother left so he doesn't know his actual birthdate. I know this because he told me.
  2. Tobias' mother left. She was a sinner, and Charles hates her. He says that he would have killed her, if she wasn't already dead. Tobias doesn't know that she's dead though. I haven't told him. He doesn't hate her, even though she's a sinner, and wants to see her someday. He doesn't remember her very well, except her eyes. I told him stories about my mother, and he liked them.
  3. Charles changed his ways after Tobias' mother left. He became a servant of God and God rewarded him by sending-



The page stopped there, which was good because JJ didn't want to read another word. 

"Dr. Harris told you to write this?" Her voice seemed to echo, and JJ closed the notebook. 

Reid nodded, reaching now for his drink. "She says that she needs it. She's going to help Tobias, as soon as he gets here."

" _ Help  _ him?!" He's a murderer! She wanted to say the last part but held her tongue, still careful of Reid's situation. 

Reid just nodded, and even though he wasn't looking at her, she still felt like she was being watched. "She needs you to bring it to her." He said again. 

"Oh, alright. I'll just bring it to her then. I'll bring it to her, and I'll share a few choice words while I'm at it."

"JJ-" Garcia started, but if she said anything else it was lost as JJ stood, clutching the notebook, and stormed out. 

"This was supposed to be coffee." Reid seemed unfazed by JJ's outburst, and he stared forlornly at the cup of water in his hand. Garcia tore her gaze from the door and looked at him for a moment before plastering on a smile.

"Actually, they told me you can't have coffee. Well, you can have like, one or two cups but that's it. Doctor's orders!"

He frowned at her, which was adorable. "I want to go on a walk." Reid sat the cup down and stood, then he smiled at her. "Please? It's been.. I don't remember the last time I was outside." His shoulders sagged a little at that realization, and Garcia could feel herself tearing up all over again. 

"Of course we can!" She stood as well, and grabbed his good arm to help him stay steady. He was warm from being under the blanket, whereas her own hands were cold. "You're lucky that they gave you pants to wear, or else you'd be walking around naked." 

He didn't laugh or blush, like she'd hoped. Just nodded and moved towards the door. The hallway was empty- all of the patients in nearby rooms had been moved, and Morgan's room was empty as well. Last time she'd seen him, he had been off to talk to Hotch.

"There's the most adorable hospital garden. I think it's a courtyard? Yeah, it's like, one of those gardens that are surrounded by the walls of the building. So technically, we're not leaving the hospital." 

"Perfect." He seemed more focused on walking than on talking, so Garcia forced herself to stop. Talking, that was. It was then that she noticed how deadly quiet it was. Sure, this section of the hospital was empty, but shouldn't there be  _ someone _ around?

The courtyard was dark, with only a few lanterns and solar powered ground lights. It was dark, and creepy-quiet, and she squeezed Reid's good arm to stop him from going through the door. "I'm starting to feel like we should get one of the others to come with us. Let's go back to the room and wait."

"No, Garcia, please. We're already here.. Just a few minutes?" Damn those puppy dog eyes. She couldn't resist it anymore and hugged him with all her emotional might. 

"Just  _ one _ minute. If you get hurt, Hotch will kill me." She smiled at him, and was finally rewarded with a quiet chuckle. 

"We won't have to worry about Agent Hotchner." He assured her, and she helped him down the step and into the garden. 

"I guess it's probably prettier out here during the day. We can't see any of the plants." The lights from the hospital windows helped- most of the first floor ones were out, especially on their side of the building, but Garcia could clearly see the window to Reid's room. After a moment, it went out. Probably just the automatic lights. They kept moving, slowly but surely.

"That's okay. I missed the fresh air, the wind.. I wanted to feel it, one last time." 

"Oh, Reid." She squeezed his arm. "There'll be plenty of times. I will see to it personally that you and I go on walks as often as we can. I could use more time outside, probably. Plus it can't hurt to exercise-" 

She was cut off by a gunshot, followed almost immediately by the hospital going dark. Every light went out, leaving them both blinded, and Garcia felt a terrible dread dragging itself through her limbs. She turned, letting go of Reid for just a moment to face the way they had come. "Reid." She heard him step closer and grab her arm, but there wasn't time for her to relax because something small and sharp was pressed against her ribs. "Reid?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not sorry. I'd love to hear your comments, questions and criticisms!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for going on this journey with me?? This is the last chapter, although there will be an epilogue that I think some people will be excited for ;). I appreciate all of you so much!!

**May 8th- 10:20 PM**

"What the hell is this?" JJ lifted the notebook up and thrust it towards Dr. Harris, who flipped it open and skimmed the first page. She was the complete opposite of JJ- calm and collected, instead of the physical embodiment of rage and almost-tears. 

"Oh, he finished it already?" She flipped it over to see how many pages were left. "Wow. This is more than I'd hoped for."

"Reid says that you asked him to write this. He thinks that you're going to help Hankel, why would you tell him that?"

"Well, because I intend to, if I'm able. I don't know what the federal government's intentions are but if Tobias is kept in a ward or prison nearby then I'll be offering my services. I'm already familiar with the case, and Spencer was eager to assist."

"He's a murderer. Tobias Hankel has killed fourteen people in two separate states, and he tortured and drugged Reid until he lost his mind. He can't be helped." He shouldn't be, is what she means, and they both know it. 

"Agent Jaraeu, I'm disappointed in you. What Spencer went through was terrible, and he deserves justice- on that we agree. But Tobias deserves justice too, and he needs help. We can't go back in time and save him from his abuser, but he is a victim of his own mind. I'm sure you've seen many individuals like this during your time with the FBI."

"Yes, and those people went to jail." 

The lights flickered, and Dr. Harris lifted her head to look at them when they refused to turn back on. "What the-"

"He's here." JJ grabbed Dr. Harris's arm, their argument forgotten. "You need to come with me." The hallway was pitch black- they were too far between windows to get any light.

"Hold on. The emergency lights will come on in a few seconds." The emergency lights were red and eerie, and cast strange shadows across Dr. Harris' face, covering half of it in shadow and washing out the other side. JJ imagined that those same shadows were mirrored on her own face.

**"JJ, you there?"** The voice came through her mic and she paused to answer. 

"Yeah Hotch, I'm here with Dr. Harris. What's going on?"

**"Prentiss heard a gunshot from the ER exit. He must've done something to cut the power. You have Reid and Garcia?"**

"No, Dr. Harris." JJ turned back to the doctor and swore. "She's gone."

**"She's probably heading towards Reid's room. Morgan and Rossi are on their way there, I need you to meet Prentiss outside."**

"Alright, got it. Stay safe." JJ turned to look both ways down the hallway, debating whether or not to call for the doctor before deciding against it and moving towards the lobby, pulling her gun out as she went. 

Prentiss was waiting in the lobby, and she gestured JJ closer. "There's an electrical shed on the edge of the property. It's the only place he could cut power to the whole hospital."

"Let's hope he's still there." JJ let Prentiss lead the way out the door, one hand holding her gun and the other holding her flashlight. The hospital didn't have much in the way of land, so it was only 100 or so feet between them and the shed. 

The door was open and hanging off its hinges. If it had been locked, it wasn't anymore; JJ picked the dense padlock up off the ground and held it out to Prentiss. "There's our gunshot." One side of the padlock had a small hole in it, the other side was blown out- Hankel had shot the padlock, and turned the power off manually. 

Prentiss turned on her microphone. "Hotch, you want us to try to turn the power back on?" They waited for an answer, and JJ kept an eye on the shadows outside the shed. There was no telling if Hankel was waiting somewhere out there, or if he had already moved on. 

**"Not yet. We don't want to startle him. Hold your position."**

In the dark like this, it reminded JJ of the last time they'd been on Hankel's trail, at Marshall Parish. They'd been too late, and they'd lost Reid. Not again. "I'm not staying here." She said this to Prentiss, not into her microphone. "You can if you want, but I won't let Reid get hurt."

"JJ." Prentiss grabbed her arm. "Morgan, Rossi, and Hotch are all looking for him. You can't do more than they already are. And there are other people in danger right now." JJ tried to pull away, but Prentiss' grip was too strong. "If you really want to go help, I won't stop you. Just wait five minutes."

They stared at each other for a moment. "Fine." JJ shook Prentiss' hand off. "Five minutes. That's it."

* * *

**May 8th- 10:21 PM**

His hand was shaking, and Spencer wondered if Garcia could feel it. He'd taken the scissors when Dr. Harris had come to change the bandages on his abdomen. Not from a stab wound, but where he'd scratched hard enough to break the skin. 

He shoved the memory to the back of his mind, focusing instead on the scissors in his injured hand. The grip was uncomfortable and awkward, but enough to do the job. His left hand had a death grip on Garcia's shoulder, and although he couldn't currently see the fabric of her shirt, he could feel the way it bunched under his fingers. 

"Reid?" She was quiet, and he could hear how scared she was. It made something twist uncomfortably in his gut, and Spencer had the terrible feeling that he'd made a huge mistake. 

"Shut up. Don't say another word." He had to do this, he  _ had _ to. And the more she talked, the less likely he was to actually work up the nerve.  _ 'We'll kill each and every one of them. Kill them!'  _ Raphael's voice had grown in intensity the whole way out to the courtyard, and Spencer took a moment to be thankful for this reprieve he'd gotten. This vacation. Charles wouldn't let Spencer out of his sight again, he knew. 

"I have to do this." Spencer couldn't  _ not  _ talk, not now. He felt compelled to explain to Garcia, to make her understand. Plus, Raphael's voice fell quiet every time he spoke. "I don't want to, and I'm sorry, and you seem really nice but this is the only way to make it easier. When he comes and gets me, he's going to be so  _ angry _ ."

In the quiet, he can hear Garcia's soft intake of breath as she prepares to speak. But there's the scuffle of a boot on the concrete walkway, and Spencer breathes out a sigh of relief. He relaxes, just a little. A shadow moves ahead of them, stopping too far away for Spencer to make out the face.

"Tobias?" He doesn't hide the hope in his voice, that one word telling the figure ahead everything that he needs to know.

"Is safe." Raphael answered. "We need to leave. Now." Spencer nodded and started to release Garcia, but Raphael stepped closer. "No. Deal with it. You've wasted enough of our time."

Spencer's mouth was suddenly very dry- all the moisture had apparently gone to his palms. Now that Raphael was here, he knew that Dr. Harris was telling the truth. Spencer's mind was clear, and his hands didn't move to do Raphael's bidding like they had before. He hadn't even realized that they did that until now. And still.. 

If he didn't do this, Raphael would. And his would be worse. He might decide to draw it out- they were hidden here, most of the foliage in this area was near or above their heads. If he figured out that Spencer had begun to care about these people again, he wouldn't be happy. 

Spencer debated apologizing to Garcia, but figured that it wouldn't make a difference. 

It was impossible to see, but he knew that Raphael could hear the rustle of fabric, and the sharp gasp of pain from Garcia, too loud where silence had settled. He felt her knees weaken, and Raphael would see her fall, see him struggle to drop her gently to the ground. He left the scissors on the concrete, unable to even look at them any longer. "Her lungs are filling up with blood." He kept his voice low, monotone. "She'll suffocate by the time we're off the property."

"You hesitated. You won't next time." It's a command and a warning. "We're leaving now." 

Spencer stepped over Garcia's body, glad that it was too dark to see if she was still breathing. His hand was still shaking, and it occurred to Spencer that he was scared. Terrified. Of Raphael, of what would happen once they left this place. He didn't want to leave. He wanted to stay, to turn and go back to Garcia. But it was too late for that. So, even though he wasn't under the influence of any drug, Spencer knew that he couldn't stay. There was still Tobias to think about. Tobias, who was waiting and who he'd promised not to leave. 

He would never, never say it out loud (especially not in the presence of Charles, Raphael, or even Tobias), but he loved Tobias. More than anything. Spencer was willing to die for him. He probably would.

"FBI! Do not move!" Two men appeared from the far end of the courtyard, on the other side of Garcia's body from Spencer and Raphael. Four points of motion, with Garcia's body as the epicenter. Spencer was closest, only a step or two away, with Raphael a few feet behind him. The men were coming closer, but Spencer couldn't tell who was who. "Put your hands in the air!" 

His hands were up in half a second- that was Agent Hotchner's voice. He trusted Hotchner implicitly, a fact that surprised Spencer, but was true now that he thought about it. Even more surprising in this situation, because Hotch's gun was pointed right at him. 

Raphael seemed to realize the same thing, at the exact same moment. He had been several feet behind, but in that same half second he moved forward, wrapping an arm around Spencer and pulling him against his chest. Any thought of struggling was silenced as Raphael pressed a gun to his head. "Put your hands down, boy." 

Spencer lowered his hands, that hope he'd felt before fading away. Charles was the one standing behind him now, and Spencer's side ached with the false memory of their last meeting. 

"Tobias, put the gun down. You don't want to hurt him." Charles' grip tightened around Spencer's chest, and Spencer gasped as the air in his lungs was forced out. 

"Charles. Charles." He spoke to both sides- begging Charles to calm down while also correcting Hotch. The barrel dug into Spencer's skin, two centimeters behind his temple. 

"Shut up, boy, or I swear to the Lord I will make an example of you."

"You won't, Charles. You can't." Hotch called across the divide, gun held steady. Spencer wondered if he'd seen the body yet, if he knew who it was. 

There was movement to Spencer's left, in the bushes, and he kept himself from trying to look. "Please.." He hardly dared to breathe the words out- already his knees were weak, and Spencer knew he wouldn't be conscious for much longer. "Please don't." He couldn't tell if the figure heard him, but there was no more movement.

"You don't think I will? This ungrateful freak has caused me enough trouble as it is."

"But you need him. Without Reid, Raphael has no way to complete his mission-" Hotch paused, and tilted his head to the left, just enough that his head was no longer parallel with his gun, and Charles could see his face. The movement was familiar, although Spencer knew he'd never seen it from this angle. Hotch was really fucking scary, he was realizing. "And you know as well as I do that if you kill Spencer, Tobias won't listen to you anymore." 

_ No, no, don't mention Tobias! _ Spencer thought, trying to shove those thoughts at Hotch even though they could never be received. Instead of getting angry, Charles laughed. "That boy knows his place. He wouldn't dare disobey me."

"He would. I'm sure that he already has. And you know it, too. That's why you keep them apart. You know how important Spencer is. So you can't kill him. And, if I'm being honest, you shouldn't have to. Spencer told us how  _ hard _ you worked on him. It would be a shame if that were to all go to waste."

"He's well-trained." Charles almost sounded proud, and Spencer felt himself blush. Charles had never complimented him before. "He killed your girl, there. Stabbed her with something. Raphael thought he couldn't do it, but I knew. I knew." Spencer could feel tears building in his eyes now, and the courtyard went silent at Charles' announcement. He couldn't stay silent any longer, and opened his mouth to say something,  _ anything,  _ when there was a loud crash, and a violent shudder that vibrated through Charles' body, and Spencer's mouth slammed shut- he bit his tongue as Charles fell, dragging Spencer with him.

The tears came then, hot and fast, blurring his vision more than the darkness had. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think except that everything was ruined, they had failed and he was  _ dead _ . Spencer wasn't even sure if he was thinking about Charles or himself. 

At some point the lights had come back on, but Spencer only knew because someone was falling to their knees in front of him, and he couldn't see their face because it was backlit by the lights. He flinched away from the figure, only to back up into Charles once more. They grabbed at him and he screamed- a loud, panicked screech that was the only sound his mouth and lungs were able to make. 

The figure was undeterred, and grabbed his wrists in a tight grip. "Spencer, stop. You're going to break your cast, you need to  _ calm down _ ." He was dragged up from the ground, and into a pair of solid arms. There was another burst of panic, and he tried to struggle for a moment before giving up. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please, you have to tell them- I didn't mean to, I didn't want to,  _ please _ -" There was the crunch of mulch to his left and Spencer jerked his head away from the unknown shoulder to see Agent Morgan looking down on him. That brought on a fresh wave of tears, and he tried to pull himself free once more, though this time he was successful. "Agent Morgan- I had to but I-" 

He shook his head. "Reid-" 

"No, listen!" He had to say it, had to get the words out before Raphael took him and he forgot again. "She had a vest- I recognized the vest. Please tell me- tell me that I was right. Please tell me it was the right vest." 

The light was just barely reflecting off of Agent Morgan's face, and he didn't answer for a moment. Spencer clutched at the arm still holding him steady as Agent Morgan bent down, squatting as low as he could go. He was a few inches above Spencer even now, and as the light fully hit his face Spencer realized he was crying, too. But then he smiled, and gave a quiet chuckle, and shook his head. "You were right. She's fine, kid. A little scared, and bruised, but she's alright. You both are."

Spencer nodded, letting the relief wash over him for a moment. Then he remembered why he was here, on the ground, and pulled fully away from the arms that held him to face the body behind him. "I asked you not to." He knew that Morgan would know what he was talking about.

"I didn't. Your doctor did it before I got the chance." The person behind him moved to Spencer's side, and Spencer startled when he realized it was Dr. Harris who had been holding him. 

"I didn't shoot him, don't worry. I promised you that I would help him, Spencer, and I meant that."

"She cold-clocked him with a flower pot." That was Agent Rossi's voice, and Spencer watched him walk around to Tobias' other side. "Poor bastard didn't stand a chance." He grabbed the gun and examined it for a moment. "Spence, I think this is yours. It's law enforcement issue."

Morgan patted Spencer on the shoulder and walked away, to where Hotch was helping Garcia sit up.

"He's alive." A fresh wave of tears- relieved this time- fell from his eyes, and Spencer scooted closer, laying his hand gently on Tobias's face. "Thank you." It was embarrassing, to be close to Tobias when others were around- they'd only ever been alone together- but Spencer bent and kissed him gently on the forehead, like he had so many times before. He felt the ridges of Tobias' brand under his lips only for a moment before he pulled away and reached for his hand instead. 

"Spencer." Dr. Harris spoke from next to him, but Spencer didn't turn his gaze away from Tobias. "We need you to go with Agent Hotchner." Now he turned to protest, but she kept speaking. "I promise you, Tobias is going to be fine. I won't leave him for a moment, we just need to get him up and into the hospital." 

Spencer hesitated but eventually nodded, and Dr. Harris helped him stand. Hotchner put an arm around his shoulders, and Spencer shivered. He felt cold all of a sudden, and he realized, rather abruptly, that he wasn't wearing any shoes. 

Hotchner led him towards the courtyard entrance, where he could see JJ and Agent Prentiss. As soon as Spencer made eye contact with JJ he dropped his eyes to the ground, still not willing to look at her. The angry ache in his chest had calmed somewhat, since he'd tricked her into leaving his room, but it was still there. 

They passed the pair, and Spencer was worried that Agent Hotchner would stop but he kept going, guiding Spencer back towards his room. 

"You should rest. We can talk when you wake up." Spencer, upon seeing his bed, realized how bone tired he was. And his broken arm hurt- a weak, thready throb of pain that promised to only grow and spread.

"And Tobias will be here?" Spencer let Agent Hotchner pull the blanket up around his shoulders, eyes already falling shut but still open enough to watch Agent Hotchner frown. "Hotch…"

"Get some rest, Reid." Spencer blinked, and the light was out. The door stood open, and some light fell into the room, but Hotchner was gone.

* * *

**May 8th- 11:25 PM**

"I feel like I should thank you, Agent Hotchner." Dr. Harris was waiting outside Reid's room, but she wasn't there for Reid. 

"No, Doctor. If you hadn't have given me that notebook, I wouldn't have been able to distract Charles. And although I don't necessarily agree with your interfering in a dangerous situation, it was unlikely that Charles would have backed down. There wasn't a way to end for us to end it without firing a shot, so I have you to thank for that as well."

"Spencer's recovery would've been a lot less likely if Tobias hadn't survived. But trust me, I will never be doing that again." She laughed, but soon became serious. "What will happen to Tobias?" 

"He'll be formally arrested, though I'll petition for him to be sent to an institution until it's determined whether he's fit for trial. Why?"

"Well, I promised Spencer that I would help him. Both of them. I know that it may not be possible for me to keep that promise, but I'd like to try."

Hotch shook his head. "I'm sorry, but Reid will be coming back to D.C. with us. Hankel will likely be transported to an institution there as well."

"Yes. And I've been… looking for a change of pace lately. And Spencer's distrust of people will make it harder for him to form a connection with someone new."

"Why are you telling me all this?" Hotch frowned, confused as to why she was telling him about Reid's private information.

"Agent Gideon informed me that you were his emergency contact." The confusion switched to surprise, then anger. But Hotch pushed it all away. He would deal with Gideon's mess as soon as he was back in his office. 

"Alright then. I can't make any promises, but I agree with you. If you're willing to relocate, I will do my best to keep you working with Reid. And I can point you in the right direction for Tobias."

"That's all I ask, thank you. Hopefully I'll see you soon, but for now I am going to go home and sleep. It has been a rough couple of days." 

They said goodbye and Dr. Harris left. The hallway was empty- he'd asked Prentiss and Rossi to stay with Hankel, who was handcuffed and tied down to a bed six doors down. Far enough away that Reid wouldn't hear if he tried to yell, and close enough that someone could keep an eye on both doors. 

JJ, Garcia, and Morgan were going to the hotel to sleep, and Hotch thought about joining them for just a moment before changing his mind and moving down the hall to grab a cup of coffee. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if I necessarily like the final line, since its technically the end of the fic, but I have declared it Good Enough, so
> 
> Once again thank you all so much for the reading, kudos, and comments!!


	11. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am... so proud of myself tbh. This is the first fanfic I've ever finished (I'm sure you all have seen me mention that haha) and the positivity has been amazing!! Warnings for some shippy stuff, just emotions and portrayals of an unhealthy relationship.

**One Month and 28 Days Later**

Everything was familiar and exotic all at once- so much so that it was overwhelming. Spencer fiddled with the visitor's badge in his hands. Security had asked him to wear it, but he was anxious and needed something to distract his hands from the urge to scratch. So he was fiddling with the badge instead of attaching it to his shirt or bag like he was supposed to.

He pressed the button on the elevator without thinking about it, then panicked because he wasn't sure that it was the right one. So he pressed every button and looked out the doors on each floor, trying to match his fragmented memories to what his eyes were seeing. 

He stopped on the third floor, going so far as to step out and onto solid ground. But before he could regret his decision the elevator doors closed and he was stranded. 

_ Just walk through those doors and ask if this is the right floor. _ He tried to force himself to move, but nothing was happening. His limbs were locked in place, just like they had been every time Charles decided-

No. Breathe. Reid took a deep breath, but his legs still wouldn't move. He was beginning to fear that he'd be stuck here until the end of time when the elevator doors beeped behind him. 

"Reid?" Spencer was very proud of himself- his pulse didn't rise at the sound of her voice. In fact, he didn't react negatively at all. Not even when JJ walked around to his front, with the hesitant smile she'd been wearing every time they'd seen each other since he got back. Since a week ago, when he'd written her a letter detailing all of his feelings about her- which had been hard, even if most of those feelings were forced upon him. "Are you okay?"

He nodded, then shook his head. Goddammit, he was about to cry, and that was not what he'd hoped to get out of this trip. "Am I on the right floor?" 

She stared at him for a moment before nodding. "Yeah. Yes, this is the right floor." She spied the visitors badge in his hands and Reid knew (or remembered) her well enough to see how she relaxed. "I didn't know you were coming today."

"Just to visit. Hotch wanted to talk to me, and Dr. Harris thought I should get out of the house. So I'm doing both." Reid had only been officially home for a week, because they'd kept him in a hospital until his arm was out of a cast and he regained more solid memories. He was nowhere near close to better, and had never been more grateful for six months mandatory leave (with partial PTO), but Dr. Harris had declared him 'stable enough to ride the metro by himself' so things were looking up.

"Well, I'm glad to see you. Do you.. Do you need some help?" He blushed, but nodded. 

"Yes, please. I'm stuck again." Reid was embarrassed to admit that his anxiety reached this level once a day, if not more, and the team had witnessed it more than once. The good news was that they knew what to do.

JJ grabbed his hand and tugged, hard enough that Reid stumbled over himself in an attempt not to fall. It didn't make the anxiety go away, but it was enough to get his legs moving so that he could go be anxious/have a panic attack in a place that wasn't embarrassing or inconvenient for himself and the people around him.

She didn't let go, even after he was moving, which Reid was grateful for. If she hadn't've started moving through the double doors ahead of them, him in tow, then Reid was sure his legs would've frozen up again.

Some of the anxiety went away when he saw the bullpen. It was exactly the same, even if his desk was much cleaner than it used to be. He thought she'd drop him off at his desk but JJ kept walking, barely glancing back. "Don't worry, it's still yours. We wouldn't give it away."

They stopped at Hotch's office and JJ knocked two times before letting herself in and bringing Reid with her. 

Hotchner himself was on the phone, and he gave a little wave before turning partly away. 

"Sit, take a few minutes." JJ squeezed his hand and led him to the couch before catching Hotch's eye, nodding, and walking out. The unspoken 'passing of the Reid torch' as Garcia had taken to calling it. Reid was technically living alone, but every night this week someone had stayed on his couch. That must've counted for work, too. Even if Reid wasn't the one working. 

"Yes, he needs to be moved within the next 45 minutes. Less than that, if you can." Hotch was still turned away, and keeping his voice low, so Reid did his best to tune out the conversation and focus his attention inward. 

His movements still felt stiff, so he clenched and unclenched his hands, his feet, and any other muscles that could be clenched. Morgan probably had a lot more to work with, and the thought made Reid laugh a little. By the end of the exercise he was relaxed again, the anxiety a barely perceptible thrum in the back of his mind.

"Okay, alright. Thank you. You too." Reid opened his eyes as Hotch set the phone down and turned back. "Sorry about that." Reid shook his head as Hotch stood and moved around to the front of the desk. 

"No, it's fine. I needed a minute anyways, so." He regretted his words instantly, because Hotch immediately got his 'worried mom' expression. 

"Reid, I would've stopped by your house tonight. It's not even been two months, you didn't have to-"

"I wanted to. I was going stir-crazy.. I reread every book, and I haven't gotten a chance to go to the library." New places were hard, even if Spencer had technically been there before. He and Dr. Harris had agreed on a standing appointment where they rode the metro to a new place. He'd already decided that they'd go to the library this week. Thursday, when it was slow.

"Alright then. How are you doing?" Spencer sort of hated that question, because everyone asked him every time they saw him, but at the same time it was a nice reminder that Raphael had lied. His team did care about him, and they proved it by smothering him with affection and casual touches and hovering like annoying little bees.

"I'm fine. Better. The delusions are gone, but you knew that. There are some things that are just.. Dug super deep, that catch me by surprise sometimes. But we've mostly been working on my anxiety and my memories. Which are two more good reasons that I came today."

Hotch didn't ask what the first two were. "Well, we definitely want you around more often. But you are on leave, and Strauss told me she didn't want to see you in or around the BAU until the six months were up." He paused to take a breath, and Reid tried not to let himself look disappointed. "I'll talk to her, though. If you can get Dr. Harris to write a note saying it's good to visit, that will help sway her."

"I can do that. Definitely." Reid nodded. "That's not what you wanted me here for though, right?"

"No. You're doing well, so I thought this was a good time.. Gideon made me your emergency contact, before he left." Hotch leaned against the desk. Gideon's loss was felt everywhere, but it wasn't surprising. After Adrian Bale, and everything with Tobias... Gideon leaving was simply one more thing to accept. Reid had been struggling with it, though that was mostly because he felt some of the blame, and partly because he was angry at Gideon for leaving him, at the time Reid needed him the most. Rossi had given him the letter two evenings ago, when he'd reluctantly spent the night slumming it on Reid's couch.

That had been a bad night, and Reid had only fallen asleep after his body had taken the choice out of his hands. Then he'd woken up two hours later and.. Well. Rossi hadn't needed stitches, but Reid noticed that he was carefully tucked away in his office today.

Reid pushed his emotions aside and nodded. "Yeah, I knew that."

"But you're in a much better place now, so if you're ready to change it to someone else then we can go ahead and do that."

"What?" Reid frowned. "Do I have to?"

"Well, no. I am comfortable with being your emergency contact, but since I'm your boss it might not be the best option."

Reid considered that for a moment. "Alright. I guess Garcia might be the best option? She doesn't go into the field, and she knows the best ways to contact everybody." He nodded. "Yeah, you can put Garcia. Or just write 'The BAU'."

"Are you sure?" Hotch definitely did not seem sure. 

"Well, I don't have any other family. And I can't exactly have a doctor call my mom every time I end up in the hospital. But I trust you guys to keep her informed." He looked at Hotch's face, the tension in his neck and eyes, and immediately looked away. His right hand moved to hold his left, covering up the mark that still sat there. Reid had been meaning to schedule a day for the surgery- his hand still ached when he moved too fast- but hadn't gotten around to it yet. It was shitty, and he was stupid, but Reid wasn't ready to let it go just yet. It was the first scar he'd gotten after Atlanta, and one of the only real ones. The idea of looking down and not seeing this mark that was supposed to protect him was terrifying. 

"That's not the reason you asked me to come either." He'd hit the nail on the head, and he knew it because Hotch didn't answer, just pushed off the desk and sat next to Reid on the couch, leaving enough room between them that they weren't touching, but Reid could reach out if he wanted to. Bad news, then. Reid couldn't help but grab onto his stomach, where the (fake) stab wound had been. He'd been surprised by how many of his remembered punishments/torture sessions were fake, a figment of imagination placed there by Raphael. The stab wound, most of the ones on his ribs.. Spencer changed his clothes every day expecting his body to be littered with marks, only to find a clean slate every time. He'd fixed that though- there were a few new bandages on his torso, from bad nights in the beginning, when things had been so very  _ wrong _ and he'd had to prove to everyone that his injuries were real…

"Reid? Hey, look at me." Reid didn't realize he'd stopped breathing until Hotchner spoke. 

"Sorry. I just…" He trailed off, not sure how to continue his sentence. "Please tell me."

"It's fine." Now it was Hotch's turn to hesitate. "I wanted to let you know that Tobias' attorney accepted the plea bargain. Which means that he won't be going to jail, but he's going to spend life in a maximum security mental ward." 

"Oh." Was all Reid could think to say, and then he burst into tears.

It is tremendously embarrassing to cry in your boss's office, even more so when it's for the wrong reasons. Hotch scooted closer, rubbing his hand on Reid's shoulder. He probably thought Reid was upset that Tobias wasn't going to jail, or getting the death sentence. Reid  _ knew _ that's what he was supposed to want. 

But damn it to hell, no matter how much Reid tried, he couldn't hate him. The worst emotion he could conjure up towards Tobias was pity, and guilt that Spencer had broken his promise, even though technically Tobias broke his promise first. But Reid still dreamt about him, every night. He still woke up to an empty bed every morning and felt like shit because of it. And it wasn't real love, but try convincing his brain of that.

Nothing had happened between them. Reid had assured them all of that, time and again. Nothing had even come close to happening, because Reid was a hostage and Tobias had Leviticus beaten into every inch of his brain. 

So Reid was crying. Because he couldn't stop thinking about Tobias, sitting alone in a room in a mental ward, forced to confront his own demons and his own sins by himself, angry at Spencer for leaving him. And then one day he'd die, and Spencer would never see him again.  _ He wasn't so far gone as to think that seeing Tobias again would be a good thing.  _

The door creaked open and Reid wiped quickly at his eyes. "Hotch…" It was JJ again, and Reid kept his head down.

"Just a minute, JJ. You can start without me." She started to close the door but Reid stood. 

"No, I'm just gonna- need to go to the bathroom, so you can go ahead." He walked out, wiping at his eyes once more. JJ said something as he passed but Reid ignored it, letting his feet carry him back out through the glass doors and down the hall. 

Once in the restroom, he collapsed on one of the toilet seats. He rested his elbows on his knees and tried to breathe, only to break down into tears once more. 

He needed a distraction. Reid ran his hands through his hair and closed his eyes, imagining what the team was doing right now. Sitting in the conference room. JJ or Hotch would be standing, or was it Garcia who did the standing? Reid couldn't quite remember.

_ "We've got a new case." JJ/Hotch/Garcia says. "Someone's been killing people in Oregon."  _ This is his imagination, but Reid has no idea why Oregon was the first state to pop into his head. He skims over the details too, not interested in picturing images of victims. Plus, that road was too dangerous. Thinking about the actual crime would make him think of his own case, which would undoubtedly lead to another panic attack. 

_ They go over the details of the case and Gideon says  _ No wait Gideon's gone. Rossi is there now, and Spencer doesn't know him well at all but he's pretty sure they're the same type of person so  _ Rossi says "We should leave as soon as possible, this guy's accelerating." _

_ "Dr. Lewis has already been informed." Hotch says, except  _ Reid doesn't know anyone named Dr. Lewis. There isn't one on the team. Reid was sure that he'd heard someone (Hotch) say that before, though. Reid closed his eyes again.

_ "I'd like this dealt with as quickly as possible. Dr. Lewis has already been informed. Yes, he is. I don't need to tell you that they can't see each other."  _ This was a memory: Hotch's phone call from the office. Reid had checked out of the conversation, not wanting to eavesdrop, but apparently his brain hadn't gotten the memo. " _ Yes, he needs to be moved within the next 45 minutes. Less than that, if you can."..."Okay, alright. Thank you. You too."  _

Reid took a deep breath, running the conversation through his head one more time. Was it possible that… His breath caught in his throat, and his leg was starting to get tired from how long it had been bouncing. He grabbed his messenger bag, flipping it open to examine the contents for a second before shutting it again. They were probably all still in the conference room, right? How long were case briefings?

"This is stupid. This is crazy." Reid was lucky that the bathroom was empty, but he was sure it wouldn't stay empty for long. Not in a building this big. He stood, too fast, and spots danced across his vision for a moment. 

"Just one last time. Just so I can sleep at night." He was getting his hopes up for nothing, but he  _ was _ hopeful. And excited, and nervous. Would Tobias even want to see him? Was Tobias even there?

He propelled himself forward before someone or something could make him second guess. Reid practically fell out of the bathroom, and looked around for a second before realizing he didn't know which way to go. 

He did know that Hotch would've chosen which room to put them in. And Hotch was a creature of habit. Reid only had two or three memories of an interrogation room at Quantico, and they were all the same one. 

He looked left, then right, and turned right. His feet moved faster of their own accord, until Reid was speed walking through the hall. He needed to do this before someone came looking for him. 

Spencer reached the door and practically skidded to a stop, keeping himself from slamming into the wall or the door itself. There were no guards outside- maybe they were in the observation room?

Or maybe this room was empty, and Reid had riled himself up for some fantasy that he'd convinced himself was real.

Either way he was here now, and Reid glanced behind him to make sure no one was coming down the hall before opening the door and stepping inside.

It wasn't empty. It wasn't empty and Reid instantly regretted this decision, but his legs had frozen up again and the door had closed itself behind him. Any external sounds were cut off with the click of the door, and it was silent.

His head was down, lowered so that all Reid could see was his hair. The door closed and he didn't move  _ maybe he hadn't heard, maybe Reid could still turn and run away and they'd never have to _ he lifted his head. They made eye contact. There must not have been anyone in the observation room because they hadn't come to pull him out yet. There was an expression on his face that Reid had never seen before, which was terrifying because Reid thought he'd seen them all. 

"Spencer?" Tobias' voice cracked, and the expression was gone, replaced with tears that threatened to spill over. Reid knew he looked the same way. Tobias tried to stand, but fell back into his chair when the sudden motion stretched the handcuff chain past its limit. 

Reid flinched at the sudden movement, taking the smallest step back toward the door. "You're scared." Tobias noted. "Did someone hurt you? Are you in danger?"

This wasn't right, Reid knew. It had been Tobias' hand that hurt him, that cut him and drugged him and broke his arm. Tobias shouldn't care about him, but he did, and Reid's heart refused to let go of the notion that Tobias had saved him. 

"No. No. I'm not in danger." He tried to smile, but knew it wasn't convincing. "I didn't think I would see you again." 

Tobias frowned and lowered his head to look at his hands. They were clean, physically speaking. The perpetual dirt and grime was gone, and Spencer remembered the way he had teased Tobias, because no matter how often he washed his hands the grime refused to leave. "Come here, Spencer. Please." His voice was quiet, serious and sad all at once, and that was enough for Spencer to push off of the wall and sit across the table. 

Tobias reached his hands out, laying them palm up on the table as far across as he could reach. Reid didn't hesitate this time, taking Tobias' hands in his own. Tobias breathed a quiet sigh of relief, and Reid agreed with the sentiment. It felt like all the stress from the past month had fallen off of his shoulders, knocked off by the simple action of holding Tobias' hand. "I'm scared."

Reid looked up, not trying to hide the surprise on his face. He wouldn't hide parts of himself away, not from Tobias. 

"I don't- they keep telling me things. But I don't understand. And they're lying to me. They act like they want to help but.." He forced himself to stop and breathe. "My father would be telling me to shut up right now, if he was here."

"He's not?" That was good news. It had only been two months, if they were already making progress that was great.

Tobias nodded, then hesitated and shook his head. "He's not. Or, he is sometimes. This doctor makes me take medicine, and when I take the medicine they won't let me see him." 

This was Tobias' brain working to understand what was happening, Spencer knew. He still couldn't accept what was really going on, so his brain formed false memories and scenarios to explain it. "What about Raphael?" Spencer glanced towards the two-way mirror for a second, then back to Tobias. He was still scared of Raphael, even if the other personality had no true power. 

"You're smart, Spence. Please.. Tell me what they're going to do to me." It was a subject change, but Reid didn't point that out. Of course no one had taken the time to actually tell Tobias what was going on. They talked over him, they made decisions for him.. And Tobias was too much of a people pleaser to disagree, or to ask questions.

He squeezed Tobias' hands and leaned closer. "They're taking you somewhere, where you'll be safe." They were alone, but Reid whispered anyway. "There will be people there you don't know, and they're going to keep giving you medicine. But if you cooperate, and you do everything they say and take the medicine and talk about what they want to talk about- then you will never see your father again. He will  **never** hurt you again. And Raphael will leave too."

"But you'll be there? You're coming with me?" The words were hopeful, but Tobias' tone betrayed him. He already knew the answer, but Spencer shook his head anyways. 

"I'm sorry, Tobias. I can't come with you." He started to pull away, to reach for his bag, but Tobias squeezed and refused to let go. 

"So you're leaving me?" Now he was angry, distraught, but Reid wasn't afraid. 

"No. Tobias, I promised that I would take you with me. I  _ promised _ that I would keep you safe. This is me keeping you safe."

"This is you leaving me!" His grip was starting to hurt.

"You left me first." Spencer now jerked his hands away. "At the warehouse, that was you who abandoned me. Charles wouldn't have run away, that was  _ you _ . You left me for them to find, for them to take me away and do whatever they wanted." Logically, Reid knew that Tobias' running away had saved him. But emotion overwhelmed his logic, especially recently. And Tobias had abandoned him to an army of demons.

"Spencer, we came back for you!" Tobias reached forward as Reid pulled away, grabbing for his messenger bag. 

"You came too late." Spencer let his emotions show in his words- all the hurt, and betrayal, fear and regret that he had felt for the past two months weaving itself into his voice. "I don't want to fight. I have something for you."

Spencer pulled a small book from his bag and set it on the table. If Tobias was still angry, that anger faded when he grabbed the book. His fingers caressed the cover, and the gold stamped words on the front. "This is my mom's bible. Where did you get it?"

"I took it. They had it boxed up, along with everything else from your house. I was keeping it safe, until I saw you again." That had been two months ago, before Reid realized that they would never see each other again. Then he'd put it in his bag and just sort of kept it. He'd slipped it into his bag today on a whim. "I-I marked a page. There's a verse there that you might enjoy." 

Tobias looked at him with a raised eyebrow, and Reid blushed. He opened the Bible to the marked passage, which Reid had highlighted. "This is the New Testament." His tone was curious- Spencer knew that Charles did not hold much stock in the second half of the Bible, unless it was Revelations.

"Read it." He prompted.

" _You belong to your father, the devil, and you want to carry out your father’s desires. He was a murderer from the beginning, not holding to the truth, for there is no truth in him. When he lies, he speaks his native language, for he is a liar and the father of lies_." Tobias stared at the page, and Reid began to panic.  _ This had been a bad idea. _

"See, it's because- because your dad wasn't good. We thought that he was, but I think now we both know.." He ran a hand through his hair. "This was a bad explanation. I was just trying to say that nothing your father said about you, or to you- none of it was true. He was just an angry, hurtful man who took his anger out on someone that couldn't fight back." Spencer reached for Tobias' free hand. "And you don't need to listen to him anymore. You can be your own person, free from him."

"I understand. Thank you, Spencer." Tobias was still staring at the page but he ran his thumb across the back of Spencer's hand, almost absentmindedly. He felt the raised skin there and smiled, now closing the book. 

"I thought they would've taken it from you." He used both hands to examine the mark, shifting the skin here and there to make sure it was still whole.

"They want to. I told them no. It reminds me of you." Sitting here, watching Tobias hold his hand, it was too much. Reid felt tears spring to his eyes again, and it was only a moment later that they began to fall. 

"I wish I had something to give you." Tobias held Spencer's one hand in both of his. He would have said more, but at that moment the door was thrown open, hard enough that it slammed against the wall. 

Spencer jumped in surprise at the sudden noise and Tobias moved to stand, only to fall back into his chair again. Agent Prentiss was standing at the door but Morgan was already moving forward, and he grabbed Reid's hand from Tobias. "Don't touch him." His anger was almost a physical thing, and Reid pulled his hand from Morgan's grip.

"Morgan, stop. He didn't do anything." Morgan needed to be calm, already Reid could see Tobias begin to panic. He'd pulled his hands off the table and hidden them in his lap, and his shoulders were drawn up to his ears.

Morgan opened his mouth to argue, but Prentiss laid a hand on his shoulder. "Reid, you can't be in here. You know that." Reid liked her, she cut right to the point without worrying about his feelings. 

"I know. I just…" He stood and moved around the table, going the opposite way from where Morgan was standing. They wouldn't hesitate to drag him out of here, so he had to move quickly. He rested his hand on Tobias's cheek, and bent down to whisper to him. "It'll be alright. Remember what I said, okay?" 

Morgan pulled him away, towards the door, and Reid went willingly. He felt better now, and no matter how upset they were with him, this had been the right thing to do. He grabbed Prentiss' arm before Morgan dragged him out of the room. "That book is his, don't let them take it." 

She stared at him for a moment before nodding. "Okay." 

Morgan continued to pull him down the hallway, though he was cooling off the further away they got. "That was stupid, kid. You could've gotten hurt."

"He was handcuffed." Reid muttered petulantly, because that was better than trying to explain himself. "To a bolted down table, and sitting in a bolted down chair."

"That's not the point. It was dangerous." Morgan sighed and finally let go of Reid's arm. "I understand wanting to prove something to yourself, but it's not worth it. Guys like that are manipulative."

"You don't need to tell me." It came out harsher than he'd intended, and Reid shook his head. "I'm fine. I'll be fine. I'm not retraumatized or anything." 

They were now standing outside the glass doors, and Reid stopped. "I'm going to go home. I'll see you in four months, okay? If not sooner." He pulled the visitor's badge out of his bag and pinned it to the strap. 

"Okay.." Morgan seemed uncertain. "Garcia said she's bringing you dinner, but call me if you need something. No matter what time." 

"Yeah, I got it. I'll be fine." And for once, it didn't sound like a lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR READING! A few quick things before you all go!
> 
> 1\. You may have noticed I added this work to a series. I do have a few different stories in this universe that I plan to write at some point in the future. One of which is already mostly completed, so keep an eye out for that in a couple weeks!
> 
> 2\. If you enjoyed reading this, I am posting the first chapter of a new fic tomorrow evening EST- a brief explanation, it is a crossover between Criminal Minds and another tv show, Scrubs. If that interests you, check it out tomorrow!
> 
> 3\. Thank you all once again! <3

**Author's Note:**

> I appreciate any comments, or things that you want to see later on! I am very proud of this fic but also very anxious so we'll see how it goes! : D


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